


give me trust (and anything can happen)

by hot_damn_louis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A little smut as a treat, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Nogitsune (Teen Wolf), Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, M/M, Researcher Stiles Stilinski, Secret Relationship, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Supportive Stiles Stilinski, Witch Hunts, i mean take it as it comes i guess, im pretending like anything after 3a didn't happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:40:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26290519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hot_damn_louis/pseuds/hot_damn_louis
Summary: The moment he entered his apartment complex, he knew that Derek was gone. Not just at-the-store gone, but off on another one of his jaunts cross country.So his boyfriend was both considerate and a total ghost. Great.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 24
Kudos: 285





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I'm back with yet another fic. 
> 
> For context: I'm basically ignoring anything regarding the Darach, and this diverges right around the end of 3A. Otherwise, just kind of roll with what's going on. 
> 
> Huge thanks in advance for all of y'all. I really appreciate every kudos and comment, and it definitely inspires me to write more. 
> 
> Talk to me on [tumblr](https://rain-or-clouds.tumblr.com/)

The silence in Stiles’ apartment in the morning was so wonderful to bask in. It was always nice to wake up without the pressures of noise and commotion to get him moving into action. He much preferred the slow start, the quiet before the storm. 

Today’s quiet was interrupted by soft snuffling from the other side of the bed. Derek lay face down, holding his pillow tightly underneath him and breathing heavily into it. He always made soft snuffly sounds when sleeping, and it was hard for Stiles not to just sit and listen. He knew that was mildly creepy, but it was so tempting. 

Stiles reached over and traced his fingers along Derek’s back, letting his fingertips barely drag along his warm skin. He liked the way that Derek was smooth and always so warm. He could feel the edges of Derek’s tattoo because of the raised scarring that marked the color. It was a slightly different skin texture, and Stiles thoroughly enjoyed tracing his fingers across his skin. 

“Ticklish,” Derek mumbled, turning his head slightly, his words barely audible. 

“Babe,” Stiles said quietly in response, slowing his movements. Instead of continuing, he leaned over and pressed a kiss on Derek’s tattoo, smiling as he pulled back. “I’ve got to get ready for work,” Stiles said, reluctantly leaving the bed. 

“No,” Derek moaned, rolling over. “Why.”

“I have to keep the lights on in this place, don’t I? I don’t see you bringing home the bacon,” Stiles said, rooting around in his dresser for a presentable pair of jeans. Most of his pants were in the corner pile, sitting next to the full dirty hamper. He really needed to make time to go to the laundromat. 

“I told you I’m rich,” Derek said, as if that was somehow the answer to everything. He sat up in bed, looking Stiles up and down, his eyes raking over his body. 

“And I told you I’m not, and that I was going to pay for my own apartment. You’re not even here enough to make paying for it worth it,” Stiles said, pulling out an old pair of maroon pants from the back of his drawer. 

“I’m busy,” Derek said, as if that was any sort of response to anything. 

“I know, Der. We have separate lives, and I don’t expect us to be together 24/7,” Stiles said, tossing his pants and a clean t-shirt back onto the bed. “It’s enough for me to know that I’m the one you come back to,” Stiles added, throwing socks and underwear behind him. 

“How could I stay away?” Derek growled, crawling across the bed. He reached out and grabbed at Stiles’ hips, pulling him back to the bed. He started peppering Stiles’ neck in kisses, holding tight to his waist so that Stiles could not pull away. 

“I can’t be late for work three mornings in a row,” Stiles murmured, relaxing into Derek’s body. He was so irresistible that it was hard not to give in when Derek was in the mood. He was so hot, and so incredible, that it was a no brainer. 

“Then I better make it quick,” Derek said, slipping his hand underneath Stiles’ briefs, grabbing his length firmly. 

“Race you,” Stiles murmured, scooting his ass back into Derek, feeling his hard cock against him. 

“Bet,” Derek growled back.

***

Stiles crossed campus, keeping an ear out in case, but enjoying the sunset walk back towards his apartment. After a long day of filing books at the library and discussing ancient burial rights, he was exhausted. He was really looking forward to a warm meal, a quick shower, and a quick fuck with Derek before they both got settled for the night. Not necessarily in that order. 

The moment he entered his apartment complex, he knew that Derek was gone. Not just at-the-store gone, but off on another one of his jaunts cross country. 

His car was missing, and the moment Stiles walked into his apartment, he could tell that the sparse amount of clothing that Derek had left around the place in the past week was gone. Sometimes, it felt like every trace of him was totally erased. 

The only positive thing about it was the fact that Derek had washed the dishes, the clean ones stacked neatly in the drying rack and the old clean ones put back into the cabinets where they belong. It looked like he cleaned up a little bit too, which was something that Stiles felt like he never really had time for. 

So his boyfriend was both considerate and a total ghost. Great. 

There was a written note on the fridge, pinned there with Stiles’ favorite cow magnet. 

_ I’ll be back in less than a week. I owe you. There’s Hot Pockets in the freezer. D.  _

These cryptic notes showed up whenever Derek left town on whatever mission he was on. Sometimes he explained what he was doing, whether it was connecting with an old acquaintance of his family, or helping out a different pack with their monster of the week, like a mercenary. He usually got the rundown of what was keeping him when Derek returned. 

Lately, the last few times he had left, he hadn’t bothered explaining himself much more than saying he was ‘searching’ for someone. The other details seemed extremely unclear, which left Stiles confused and sad any time he would disappear without notice. 

Stiles sighed, only mildly disappointed. He was looking forward to cuddling while watching the newest episode of Love Island, but that was obviously out of the books for him. He would have to settle for watching it alone, which was so much less fun than watching it with Derek. 

“I’ll miss you too,” Stiles said to the air, knowing that Derek couldn’t hear him. If only he could, but that would be beyond creepy. He liked having privacy sometimes, especially within the totally unprivate world of werewolves. Maybe he would enjoy his night totally alone. 

He showered quickly, moving efficiently without any distractions. He made himself the last box of mac and cheese in the cabinet, and watched Love Island quietly while eating his bowl quickly. It felt a little depressing, eating mac and cheese alone on a Thursday night while watching a dating show. But it was better than being chased by monsters every week. 

He heard a ding of an incoming text, but he preferred not to answer. He had a few friends on campus, ones that he worked with or shared a few classes with, but the only person who would be texting him this late would be Lydia or Scott. One was bad in a good way, and one was usually good in a bad way. 

He waited a few moments before looking down at his phone, praying that it was Derek breaking his texting habits and actually sending Stiles something first. Those hopes were immediately struck down when the notification showed a text from Lydia, miss extraordinaire herself. 

_ I need help researching magically enhanced runes, if you have the time. _

Stiles rolled his eyes at the text. It didn’t really matter if he had the time, because in all likelihood, he was going to do it anyways. There were no requests from Lydia, there were only thinly veiled demands.

_ Fine. Not promising anything tho. _ Stiles shot back his text quickly, knowing that a lengthy response was probably not good for either of them. She prioritized speed while he prioritized thoroughness. It was why they were partners, to be good at something the other lacked. Not that she wasn’t thorough, but she frequently didn’t dive as deep as Stiles would into the research. Unlike Stiles, she valued her free time and had a boyfriend who was around to enjoy it with. 

_ I expect results by Saturday morning. _

That was only vaguely threatening. 

Instead of getting to bed, Stiles opened up a few books about runes, reading up on their magical properties when used by different magical users. Stiles, as a spark, had a few limitations to his own personal uses of runes as magic. Someone like a witch or a sorcerer had a lot more options, which meant that the enhanced runes needed more specification for Stiles to make any sort of true assessment. 

Stiles rolled his eyes, tossing his book on runes aside. He flopped across his bed, secretly hoping that Derek would sneak in during the night and hold him like he truly wanted. That was unlikely, but a boy liked to dream. He was too tired to think about runes, or anything.

***

Time without Derek worked a whole lot differently than time with Derek. 

Without Derek, Stiles would wake up at the crack of dawn and get started grading papers for the cultural anthropology class he was a TA for. He would put on quiet music and try and get through as many papers as he could in an hour before he had to get ready for work. 

He then went to the local library for his actual work. He spent the morning shelving kids books before the library opened, and once they were open he was the help desk guy. After lunch he swapped with Trina, the afternoon gal, and hustled back to campus for his two classes of the day. 

With Derek, there would have been a little more lateness, probably a phone call during lunch, and Derek meeting him outside of his last class to walk home together or get some dinner. It was much less lonely with him there. 

Stiles expected a quiet day without Derek, which was why his phone ringing during lunch was surprising. 

“Scott?” Stiles asked, answering. He stepped forward in line at the coffee shop, reaching into his bag for his wallet. 

“Did you do the rune research Lydia asked you about?” Scott asked. 

“That was three days ago, Scott, and I can’t just drop everything to research that when I have classes and jobs,” Stiles said. He would have shrugged, but there was no way for Scott to see or hear that. 

“We think there might be a witch trying to claim Beacon Hills as her own,” Scott said quickly, the words coming out in a rush. 

Stiles stepped up to the counter, quickly ordering his coffee and paying, not saying anything to Scott for a second. He was trying to process this in his brain, matching it up to what he knew about runes and witches. 

“Stiles?” Scott said, catching his attention again.

“Sorry, Scotty, I was trying to think about it. Enhanced runes can be done by just about anyone with a spark, or even more power. The average witch would be able to enhance anything with the slightest inclination of magical ability, even a rowan broom, for all I know,” Stiles explained, picking at a button on his shirt. 

“It’s Saturday morning, and Lydia was kind of hoping you would have compiled everything by today so that we could keep working on it,” Scott said. 

Shit. He had nearly forgotten about the whole Saturday deadline, and his research was only half complete, if not nowhere near thorough enough for what they were dealing with. 

“I can send it over, but I have no idea what’s going to be relevant. You should have just told me there was a witch,” Stiles said. It was always a little annoying when Scott left out important details, and by extension he probably left out important details to Lydia as well. 

Stiles and Lydia were both in college away from Beacon Hills, with Stiles closer at Stanford and Lydia at MIT. When things went wrong in Beacon Hills, Scott would just text them or call them for some research and support. It was always misinformation or a lack of details that left both parties scrambling at the last second. 

“I didn’t want you to worry,” Scott said, as if that was an easy and simple answer. 

“I swear, just send me all the details next time, okay? Because having to hear from Lydia what you want is honestly kind of stupid,” Stiles said, grabbing his coffee off of the bar. “I’ll send you my stuff by tonight, but I have to work and I won’t have time. 

“Sounds good,” Scott said cheerfully, as if he wasn’t under the supposed threat of a witch. 

That boy was kind of stupid sometimes.

“Yeah yeah, talk later,” Stiles said, hanging up. 

It was moments like these when he sort of wished he had stayed in Beacon Hills for college. He could have went to the community college, or taken classes online, or something to keep the peace and keep both Scott and Derek safe. He wanted to make sure they were all safe and out of harm’s way, but it seemed like Scott, as the magical True Alpha he was, couldn’t go more than a month or two without stepping into trouble. 

At least Cora had graduated high school and was now a crew member on some band’s arena tour, and Isaac had come back from his schooling in France as the new Beacon Hills french teacher. Allison owned a hunting shop and taught self defense classes on the side, keeping Beacon Hills safe with her badasserie. It was just Scott who somehow managed to screw things up every once in a while, forcing the pack to have to swoop in and save him. 

But he was still Stiles’ best friend. His brother.

(Even if Stiles was hiding his relationship with Derek from him.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was always a little frustrating, to have Derek leave without explanation. But, at the same time, Stiles was supportive and didn’t want to step over boundaries that were clearly drawn between them. He was afraid that asking might fracture a part of their relationship, and he cared more about Derek than he cared about these trips away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started including more smut, which is definitely new for me. Just a little smut, as a treat. 
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos so far! I thought I'd like to let you know that I have 5 chapters right now, but that's totally subject to change. Feel free to let me know what you think so far in the comments. 
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://rain-or-clouds.tumblr.com/)

Derek came back late on Saturday night, sneaking into the apartment after Stiles had already settled in bed for the night. He felt the other side of the bed dip as Derek’s weight was lowered into the bed, his body taking up the part of his bed that was truly his. 

It was like gravity moved them together, Stiles sliding towards Derek and the two of them meeting in the middle. Stiles wrapped his arms around him, keeping his eyes closed and moving purely by touch. He always liked the way that Derek’s big hands would slide around his waist, and the way that Derek would press kisses to the side of his head when they would lay together. 

“You were gone a while,” Stiles murmured, tucking his body close to Derek in greeting. He hummed in content as Derek rubbed his nose along Stiles’ jawline, scenting him and not so subtly smelling him. Derek let his hands wander along Stiles, making sure that he smelled like the two of them again, made their bed smell like them as strongly as possible. 

“Some speed bumps,” Derek said quietly in response, not offering more detail. 

It was always a little frustrating, to have Derek leave without explanation. But, at the same time, Stiles was supportive and didn’t want to step over boundaries that were clearly drawn between them. He was afraid that asking might fracture a part of their relationship, and he cared more about Derek than he cared about these trips away. 

He wasn’t cheating. That could be ruled out pretty easily by how possessive he was when they were together. He would suck hickeys into Stiles’ neck, just below the collar line, knowing that any shift of Stiles’ shirt would reveal marks. He would always wrap his arm around Stiles’ shoulder or waist when they went out to eat, or hold his hand when they walked back home after Stiles’ classes. He wasn’t a particularly affectionate person with certain aspects of PDA, but he was undoubtedly Stiles’, and Stiles was totally and completely Derek’s. 

“Bumpy like dangerous?” Stiles asked, pulling at Derek so that he laid further on top of Stiles, the gentle press of his weight on Stiles’ body a warm comfort. 

“Somewhat. Nothing that I couldn’t heal from,” Derek said, tracing his fingers down Stiles’ side. He slipped his fingers under the waistband of Stiles’ boxers, hinting at something more than a little cuddling. 

“I don’t like you getting hurt,” Stiles mumbled, lazily pressing kisses to the parts of Derek’s chest that he could reach. He relaxed fully underneath him, feeling the drowsiness taking over. 

“I missed you,” Derek said, kissing down Stiles’ neck. Even though that would normally turn Stiles on and have him writhing underneath Derek, he was far too tired to do much more than pet Derek's hair. 

“I missed you too, Der,” Stiles said, suppressing a yawn. “I’m really tired though, babe. Can we resume this in the morning?”

Derek’s hands moved possessively to rest on Stiles’ hips, throwing one leg over, shifting and adjusting them so that they were intertwined on the bed. “Okay,” Derek said, letting his head rest next to Stiles’ on the bed. “I still owe you.” 

“I look forward to it,” Stiles muttered, his hands slowing as he started to slip into sleep. 

***

Stiles woke up to a heat wrapped around his cock, and he groaned immediately at the slow pleasure building in his belly. He opened his eyes slowly, moaning at the sight of Derek’s lips wrapped around his length, his body a firm pressure on Stiles’ legs. He slipped his hands into Derek’s hair, hands instinctively tightening and pulling slightly at the roots. He liked the way that Derek moaned at that gesture. 

“Fuck me, babe,” Stiles moaned, arching up into Derek’s mouth slightly, trying his hardest not to buck his hips up. 

Derek grabbed Stiles’ hips, holding him down tightly to the bed. His fingers dug into Stiles’ hips, and he would probably leave small fingerprint bruises. He swallowed Stiles’ down, his tongue curling along Stiles’ length in a way that Derek knew drove him crazy. 

It was only a few moments later, and a quick warning tug from Stiles, that he came hard, almost gasping with it. He laid back, letting his orgasm course through him as Derek licked along his cock, cleaning him as he went. 

“Good morning,” Derek said, smirking knowingly. 

“Yes. That,” Stiles said, hands grabbing at Derek to haul him up closer. “You definitely don’t owe me anymore,” Stiles added, pulling Derek close to kiss him. 

He liked the way Derek kissed. Ever since they first kissed almost a year ago, he was enraptured with the way that he kissed. He always kissed with an intensity, kissing like every single one was going to be their last. Even when it was just a casual peck as they moved around each other in Stiles’ apartment, he still took the time to grab at Stiles’ hips and kiss him like he meant it. 

“C’mere,” Stiles mumbled against his lips, reaching down between them to grab at Derek’s hard cock. He wrapped one hand around his length, stroking him slowly as they kissed. He didn’t have a lot of energy after the thorough awakening, but he could feel Derek twitching for more above him. 

Stiles reached around with his other hand, grabbing at Derek’s ass, feeling the hard muscle. He pushed him forward, grinding him closer, attempting to encourage his own movement. Slowly, Derek started to thrust into Stiles’ hand, breaking away from their kiss to moan into Stiles’ neck. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Stiles said, closing his eyes and enjoying feeling Derek thrust against him. “Having reunion sex is always the best part of you leaving.”

Derek bit into Stiles’ shoulder gently, thrusting unevenly as he edged closer. His hands pressed into the mattress beside Stiles’ ribs, hands clenched into fists as he came across Stiles’ hand and stomach. 

Instead of rolling off like a normal guy, Derek collapsed his weight onto Stiles, pressing the cum between their bodies. “Missed this,” Derek murmured, nosing at Stiles’ neck. 

“You just missed rubbing me with your scent,” Stiles said, poking at Derek’s sides, trying to cause a reaction. He liked when he could hit a sensitive spot, causing Derek to flinch. 

Derek hummed into his skin, adjusting so that they were laying tangled together, almost indistinguishable from each other. “When do you have to work?” Derek asked, his fingers tracing along Stiles’ ribs, feeling the tiny raised scars that marred his skin. Only Derek would have those marks memorized, and torture himself by touching them over and over. 

“Sunday, remember? Nothing on my schedule,” Stiles said, gently combing his fingers through Derek’s hair. He liked the way that it would stand up after he had run his fingers through it. Made him look soft and gentle instead of like the hard, leather wearing werewolf he tried to front with. 

“Good,” Derek said, kissing Stiles’ shoulder once before starting to suck a mark onto it. 

Stiles groaned, tilting his head back into the pillows. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

***

“That research you sent me was kind of shit, you know,” Lydia said as the first words out of her mouth on the phone. 

“And a good morning to you too, Lyds,” Stiles said, rolling over to check the time on Derek’s phone. “What can I do for you at 6am on a Tuesday morning?”

“I need some more specifics to help fuel my ideas. Something a little more than ‘every witch can do it’. Can I just send you what I have? Too bad I already have,” Lydia said, the clacking of her nails against the keyboard loud over the phone. 

Stiles sighed, flopping back into bed. He leaned back into Derek, letting Derek tug him closer to his chest. They liked to have their mornings together, especially since Stiles had to get ready for work shortly. He sort of wished they could repeat the other morning, with the blowjob. They could squeeze in a second round if they were fast— 

“Are you still there?” Lydia asked, cutting through his thoughts. 

“Yeah, just trying to enjoy my morning,” Stiles muttered, feeling a little bitter. 

“Tell her to go away,” Derek said, pressing his whole body to Stiles’ back. He wrapped himself thoroughly around Stiles, his body heat warm and comforting. 

“Who’s that?” Lydia asked pointedly. 

Shit.

“Not important to you,” Stiles said, scooting himself backwards into Derek’s arms, feeling content in his arms. He really did not want to break any sort of bubble by having the big ‘relationship’ conversation with Lydia this early in the morning. 

“This is definitely more important than my witch research,” Lydia said. Stiles could almost see her face, the judgemental purse of lips and the raised eyebrow that signaled that she would quickly figure it out, sooner than anyone would think. “Is it someone I know?”

“I’m gonna enjoy my morning. Bye, Lyds,” Stiles said, hanging up on her. 

He knew he would regret hanging up on her, but not for the reasons that one would think. He knew she would be mad, sure, but he knew that he would get questioned tenfold the moment he was not around Derek. She would know, just by the tone of his voice, that he was dating Derek. It was why he had avoided the conversation with her to begin with. 

“Not telling her about us?” Derek asked, pressing his lips to the back of Stiles’ neck. 

“I like us as us, and you like privacy. This is just easier than any alternative,” Stiles said, reaching back to touch Derek’s side, to feel connected with him. 

“I like us too,” Derek murmured.

***

The very next day, Stiles came home to Derek packing a duffel bag, tossing in shirt after shirt. 

He had never walked in on him leaving. Frequently he would slip away while Stiles was in class, or leave in the middle of the night while Stiles was asleep. Seeing him pack with an intensity in his eyes was a different sight, one that Stiles was not anticipating. 

“Babe?” Stiles asked, dropping his bag on the ground under the coat rack, closing the door quietly behind him. 

“Sorry,” Derek said, looking around the living room as if he was searching for anything left behind. “Have you seen my good knife?” 

“That blessed dagger thing?” Stiles asked, kicking off his shoes, glancing around himself. “I think you left it under our bed.”

Derek nodded, quickly striding out of the room. He came back with the dagger, sliding it into the duffel bag. He seemed to adjust things inside of it for a few moments, his movements slowing as he bowed his head in thought. 

“Can I make you a sandwich for the road?” Stiles asked, moving towards the kitchen. Within the open air of their apartment, he could keep an eye out for Derek, who had stilled and looked up at Stiles with a bit of surprise in his face. 

“You’re not going to ask any questions?” Derek asked, his voice quiet, barely carrying across the room. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that I trust you? I know that if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me. I don’t want to push you if you don’t want it,” Stiles said, shrugging. He pulled out the ingredients for a quick turkey sandwich, moving smoothly through the kitchen. He tried hard to ignore the worry that was taking up space in his brain. 

“But a normal person would have asked by now.”

“Do you want me to ask?” Stiles responded, spreading mayo on the bread. 

Derek shook his head, leaving the bag and walking towards Stiles. “You are nosy about everything else.”

Stiles shrugged, adding extra pieces of turkey for Derek’s benefit. “The first time I asked, you chewed me out and didn’t talk to me for a week. I’d rather be talking to you and in a happy relationship than picking fights every time you leave. Would you rather we argue?” Stiles asked, keeping his head down. 

He was afraid that looking at Derek would make him become a hypocrite to his own words. Once glance and he would have been asking why he had to leave and likely begging him to stay. It was hard to have him leave, knowing that time with Stiles was less important than whatever mission he was on. 

“No, I just—” Derek cut himself off, shaking his head. He fiddled with his fingers nervously for a few moments, picking at the dirt under his nails, brow furrowed. 

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a silver chain with a pendant, placing it on the counter between them for Stiles to see. 

It was a silver triskele on a silver chain, the pendant no larger than a quarter. The chain was long, and without even touching it, Stiles could feel the magic that was radiating from it. This was a clearly powerful piece of jewelry, and it was pretty, but Stiles was sort of missing the point. 

“That’s really nice,” Stiles said, moving to finish up the sandwich for Derek. He was avoiding eye contact, not really sure of what sort of behavior Derek expected from him. He didn’t want to do something to cause friction, not when Derek was leaving. 

“I want you to wear it. It was my dad’s,” Derek said, his fingers trailing along the chain. “I grabbed it out of storage.”

Stiles looked up at him quickly, eyes wide. This was big. Bigger than Stiles could have ever thought. He knew that they were in a relationship, and while they didn’t really do anniversaries or see each other as often as Stiles would have liked, they were nearing a year together. That was a year of commitment, nearly 9 months of casually living together, and secrets spilled that could not be taken back. 

“Yes, I would really love to,” Stiles said, looking up at Derek. He couldn’t help the grin that slid onto his face, the happiness of this moment clearly evident in his eyes. He couldn’t ignore the significance, and he really didn’t want to. He wanted them to have commitments, to move forward in this direction. 

Derek picked the necklace off of the counter, gesturing with one hand for Stiles to lean forward. He slipped the long chain around Stiles’ neck, laying the pendant carefully over Stiles’ heart. His hands brushed over Stiles’ chest, fingertips tracing along Stiles’ collarbones. “It’s supposed to protect from danger, help guide someone in life,” Derek murmured, eyes trained on the pendant. “My dad had given it to me a few days before the fire. I haven’t been able to wear it since,” Derek added, almost inaudibly. 

“Thank you,” Stiles said genuinely, sliding forward into Derek’s space. He wrapped him up tightly in a hug, tucking his chin over Derek’s shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around Derek’s waist. 

In return, Derek pressed his face into Stiles’ neck, breathing in deeply. He held the back of Stiles’ neck, holding them together tightly. He seemed to relax marginally in their embrace, but even then, he was tense with the need to leave. 

Stiles pulled back, kissing Derek firmly once. “I have one thing you can take with you,” Stiles said, smiling as he leaned in and pecked Derek one more time. 

He quickly dashed off to their bedroom, pulling his favorite comfy hoodie off of the hook on the back of the door, bringing it back out to derek. “I thought you might like a bit of me while you go,” Stiles said, offering the hoodie to him. 

Derek looked at it for a moment, expression blank. Before Stiles could take it back, feeling nervous, Derek’s face exploded into a smile, looking down at the sweatshirt. He took it quickly, holding it up to his nose for a moment, inhaling. 

“This means so much,” Derek said, looking at Stiles. He pulled him in quickly, kissing him firmly and passionately. Derek’s large hands slid underneath his shirt, eager to touch skin. He was smiling into their kisses, clearly happy with this small gesture. 

He pulled away from Stiles, ducking his head to hide the small smile still on his lips. He quickly stuffed the sweatshirt into the top of the bag, following it with Stiles’ precariously wrapped sandwich. 

“Don’t stay away too long. And maybe call this time?” Stiles suggested, following Derek towards the door. 

“No promises, but I can try,” Derek said. He pulled Stiles in for one more kiss before slipping out the door, closing it quickly behind himself. 

Stiles wandered back into their apartment, grabbing his bag and hauling it into their bedroom. With his free hand, he reached up to the pendant. Touching it, grabbing it, Stiles could feel how much care went into crafting this piece. He liked having a bit of Derek, wearing a bit of Derek. He knew that with one touch, he could bring himself closer to Derek. 

***

It was just a regular night, Hot Pockets in the microwave and a shitty salad in a bowl. He would likely watch a movie while grading papers, and contemplate if it was time to take everything to the laundromat tomorrow morning. It was supposed to be casual, and he definitely was not touching the triskele pendant every 5 seconds, thinking of Derek. 

His phone ringing on a Friday night was not strange, but not necessarily welcome. He liked his friends at Stanford, but he preferred Derek’s company instead. If it was Lydia, he really didn’t feel like doing research, and if it was Scott, it meant that something was wrong. 

It was Scott. 

“What’s up?” Stiles asked, answering the phone. He tapped his fingers on the counter, waiting for the microwave to ding and for his food to be finally done. 

“You have to come back, Stiles,” Allison said quickly into the phone, her voice sounding rushed. “Scott’s been hurt,” she added, voice sounding far from the phone. 

“Alli? Hurt by what?” Stiles asked, already heading towards his shoes. 

“Some witch. Tore him up pretty bad, and the magic isn’t letting him heal. We’re hoping that you could come help Deaton, maybe use your spark or something? It’s been a few hours and it’s only getting worse,” Allison said. 

Stiles wracked his brain for the pertinent knowledge while he put his shoes on, making a noise into the phone to let Allison know he was thinking. There were so many herbs and so many different healing qualities, all boosted with the magic from whatever user was aiding. He was slightly stronger than Deaton, but not by enough to make any radical changes. 

“Have Deaton use chamomile as a compress on the affected areas, and if he’ll drink some chamomile tea, have Scott do that. If he has any yellow dock, I’d suggest that too. I’ll be there in a little over two hours,” Stiles said, hanging up without a response. 

He dashed into the bedroom and grabbed an old backpack out of the closet, quickly tossing in clothes. He didn’t look too carefully at what he put in, since most of his clothes were laying in the dirty hamper, but he made sure to have an extra pair of underwear and a new t-shirt for tomorrow. Besides that, everything else could wait. 

He grabbed his Hot Pockets from the microwave and wrapped them in a napkin, slinging the backpack over his shoulder. He quickly left the apartment, locking it behind him. 

***

He arrived at the vet’s office, barely taking time to park before jumping out and heading in the back door. 

It was no surprise to see Scott laying on the big table, unconscious, his chest bare. He had one long gash moving diagonally across his chest, the edges of it pink and raw. It looked as if it started to heal, but something was distinctly preventing it from doing so. 

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Allison said, looking up at him from where she sat at Scott’s side. “He hasn’t moved since we brought him here. 

“I tried the chamomile, and it stopped the bleeding. Good thinking,” Deaton said, appearing in the other doorway. 

Stiles looked down at his best friend, his brother, trying to think of anything else he could do to help him. “Has he started healing?” Stiles asked, stepping forward to examine the wounds more closely. 

“Barely. Not anywhere near the rate that he should be, but considerably faster than human healing,” Deaton said, nodding towards Scott. 

The wound looked like it could have been worse, but any large wound would still be a shock to Scott’s system if he didn't try and fix it soon. Stiles reached out and touched Scott’s chest on either side of the gash, closing his eyes to feel the magic that was pulsing through him. 

Stiles was always better at sensing magic than practicing it, ever since he figured out he was a spark. Besides a few magical boosters and the trick with mountain ash, he was sort of useless on that end. 

The magic wasn’t a curse or hex, so the damage would not be long term. It had a twinge of darkness, different compared to Stiles’ or Deaton’s own magical signatures. He could tell that it was a woman, and that this was done maliciously, but there were no other clues. It was powerful enough that the malicious intent alone was enough to keep the wound open and slow the healing. 

“I’m going to give his healing a little kick start, so if I pass out, please make sure I don’t hit my head,” Stiles said, cracking his neck side to side as if to get ready. 

“Wait—” Deaton said, moving forward to stop him. 

Stiles went ahead anyway, placing his hands on Scott’s chest and feeling the darkness there. Instead of sucking it out, like a poison, Stiles pushed some of his own spark in, just enough to kick start the healing bits and burn up the darkness. He could feel the little push of his spark, barely enough to matter in the long run. 

He opened his eyes to see Scott gasp, the wound in his chest already starting to knit itself back together at the very edges. “Fuck,” Scott gasped, his head tilting back in pain. 

“Not a problem,” Stiles said, reaching out to steady himself against the counter. He felt a little woozy, but it was nothing a soda and some sleep wouldn’t fix. “If you don’t mind,” Stiles said, starting to walk. He barely made it one step before collapsing to his knees, too exhausted to move. 

Well shit. 

***

He woke up in his old room at his dad’s house in Beacon Hills. 

That fact alone was alarming, considering the last thing he remembered was magically healing Scott in the vet’s office. 

He sat up quickly, eyes scanning his room for anything that might give him clues to why he was waking up here, and not still awake taking care of Scott. He really, truly, hated waking up in a different place than where he fell asleep. 

His backpack was at the foot of his bed, and so were his shoes, which was good. It meant that someone had purposefully brought him back to his house, rather than waking up because he was kidnapped or something more sinister. 

“Dad?” Stiles called out, swinging his legs out of bed. He felt a little woozy, but his stomach was growling and his body felt tired in a lack-of-food way, rather than an about-to-die way. 

“Stiles?” John called from downstairs, his voice echoing up the stairwell. 

Stiles walked down the stairs to find his dad in the kitchen, preparing some eggs on the stove, his eyes taking in Stiles as he walked up. 

“What happened?” Stiles asked, rubbing his hands over his face. He leaned heavily against the counter opposite his dad, watching him sleepily as he continued to make breakfast. 

“I got a call from Allison that you had passed out after helping Scott heal from the witch attack. Scared me half to death considering I had no idea you had even drove into town,” John said, raising an eyebrow at Stiles. “She seemed concerned, and I picked you up and brought you back here. You were passed out the whole time.”

“Who carried me upstairs then?” Stiles asked, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Isaac. He came by soon after I got to the vet’s place. He was still recovering from the witch but had already gone home and slept it off. He didn’t get the brunt of the attack,” John said, shrugging. 

Stiles hummed in acknowledgement, trying to put some pieces together in his head. “So they saw the witch? We can start to put an ID on her and figure out why she’s in Beacon Hills?” Stiles asked, already focusing on the more pertinent, detective side. 

“That’s the idea. Isaac’s gonna come to the station with me today to figure it out,” John said, plating the eggs he was cooking. He went to the toaster to fetch the toast, quickly buttering it and dropping it onto the plates. 

“I’m starving. Thanks, dad,” Stiles said, accepting the plate gratefully. 

He forgot that using any aspect of his spark left him hungry, if not ravenous, as his body tried to replenish the energy he had used. At least his efforts were for good, considering that Scott was now starting to heal normally instead of at the incredibly slow pace of before. He couldn’t lose Scott now, not when things were starting to be good for them. 

“You gonna head back to Stanford today?” John asked between bites of food, looking intently at Stiles. 

“Probably. Was gonna check on Scott before I go, just in case. I have work tomorrow morning, so I can’t really stay the whole time without calling in sick or something,” Stiles said, shrugging. He really wanted to stay longer, to make sure that everything was going okay with the Nemeton and the resulting chaos from it. 

There was some small part of him that hoped everything would get better if he left, as if he was somehow the root cause of it all. He felt like it sometimes, being the one that dragged Scott into the woods to find a dead body in the first place. But, now, as he got away from everything, he realized how minimal his involvement created any issues. Frequently, he was the one attempting to solve issues, so the idea that him leaving would fix things was a farce. He had a small hope, though, that maybe he could be the linchpin that would change things. 

“You’re really becoming a good man,” John said, reaching over to clap Stiles on the shoulder. 

He couldn’t help but smile at that phrase, smiling brightly at his dad. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

***

Stiles was about to leave Beacon Hills when a text came through from Derek. 

_ Home _

If that wasn’t any more motivation to get back to Stanford and rush to his apartment, Stiles didn’t know what was. 

He quickly said his goodbyes, squeezing his dad and promising to visit a little more often. He patted Scott on the back and wished him good recovery. He stopped by the gas station on the way out of town, bought a Red Bull, and was on the road before 5pm. He was determined to see Derek. 

Thoughts of Derek consumed him for the entire drive home. And not just dirty, filthy thoughts about what they were going to do when Stiles got back. He was thinking of the way they would dance together in the kitchen making dinner, or when Stiles worked all day, he would come home to Derek and the warm apartment. Or when Derek would pull him down and massage his feet, working out the pains of the day because he wanted to make Stiles feel good. 

When they first got together, hell since they first met, Stiles never thought it would get this way. They always met each other with passion, but not in the way that resulted in fireworks, but in the way that left them clashing against each other. It was always a fight with Derek, even when they were teasing playfully or trying to work together. 

Somehow, between Derek’s loss of Alpha status and everyone leaving for college, Derek started to soften. Things were settling to a disaster once quarterly, rather than every month, and the pressure was starting to release off of everyone’s shoulders. He had started dating some nice guy from the bookstore, and Stiles was partying hard at his first year of school. 

Then, Derek and Cora went on an epic road trip once she graduated high school, and the two of them came back whole again. It was as if they had to find their new definition of family within each other. 

That’s when Derek started coming around more, asking for help with finding a career and pestering Stiles. When Stiles had suggested he go traveling, see more than the continental U.S, Derek followed his advice and went backpacking abroad. 

He always sent letters back, some to the pack as a whole through Scott, but more frequently to Stiles. He said that it was easier to talk to someone who understood loss as what it was, rather than the ever optimistic Scott and his love life with Allison. 

There was still a lack of trust between Derek and the Argents, but it was workable. It always sort of would be, when things came down to it. He wasn’t going to jeopardize the pack because he had trauma in his past, and even though they all promised they would side with Derek, he made sure that no one felt out of place or uncomfortable. 

He started hanging around more frequently a few months before Stiles graduated, watching him write his undergrad thesis on the connections between mythologies and their cultural impacts. He would drop by for a few days at a time, splitting his time between Beacon Hills and Stiles’ apartment, although he never told Scott or the rest of the pack that. 

He kissed Stiles the day he finished his first draft of the thesis, pulling him in during the excitement. There was no going back after that. 

The thoughts of their relationship, how it had built overtime, was what Stiles thought about driving back to his apartment. He wanted so badly to make things formal with Derek, whatever that meant in the long run. He wanted them to be together officially, to care only for each other and be focused on one another completely.

(He thought he could love Derek. He could feel it building underneath his skin.)

***

He was tired enough, walking up the stairs to his second floor apartment, that he didn’t notice the way that the door didn’t sit quite closed. When he reached to put his keys in the lock, the door swung open, away from his hands. 

This was alarming. 

Stiles quickly pushed into his apartment, dropping his backpack down, running into the apartment, all tiredness shed from his brain. He glanced around quickly, trying to look around his apartment for anything missing, or broken. 

“Derek?” Stiles asked, his heart racing in his chest at the thought of him, scared for him. Things would not be this way if Derek was in full health, which meant that Derek was somehow incapacitated somewhere. 

There was a moan from the ground near the couch, and after stepping towards the sound, Stiles saw Derek laying on the ground, obscured by the coffee table. There was a pool of blood around his chest, a large gash on his chest and smaller defensive wounds on his arms and legs. 

“Fuck,” Stiles muttered, dropping to his knees next to Derek, not quite sure what else to do. He laid one hand on Derek’s face, trying to gauge how injured he really was. 

At first touch, he could feel a magical signature pulsing through Derek, pushing darkness through his veins and preventing him from healing. It tasted familiar in the back of Stiles’ mouth, the sensation of the magic something that Stiles had felt before. He pressed both hands on Derek’s chest where it was unmarred, concentrating on the feeling of the magic. 

It was the same magic that was coursing through Scott. It was the same witch. 

“What are you after?” Stiles asked, knowing that there was no way Derek could answer. 

Based off of his past experience with Scott, he knew that there was really only one way this could go. 

He closed his eyes and concentrated on his own spark, mildly weaker due to the recent use. He could feel the resistance in his own body as he started to pull at that magic, pulling at the energy that was coiled around his core. He pushed it as best as he could, pushing it into Derek quickly. Through the connection he could feel the darkness of the witch eating at him, wanting to cross between their bodies and attack Stiles. He resisted, pulling his hands away before any of the darkness could take hold. 

He managed to sit back, his knees covered in Derek’s blood where he knelt next to him. The last sight he had before he passed out was the slow stitching of the corners of Derek’s wound, his magic acting as a boost. 

***

Being magically drained felt a lot like a hangover sometimes. 

Stiles could feel his brain and body react to rolling over, moving his body into a slightly less uncomfortable position. He could feel a hand shaking him, but it was rocking him just enough to feel the nausea building in his throat. He swatted at the hand, wanting to sleep for years rather than open his eyes to the brightness that was inevitably surrounding him. 

“I feel like shit,” Stiles mumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes in an attempt to block out all of the light and noise of his apartment. 

It was the thought of Derek, laying half dead, that had Stiles forcing his eyes open, just to look. 

He was still laying on the floor of his living room, but instead of Derek and the pool of blood, it was Derek laying on the couch, blood gone. For a moment, it was like Stiles had imagined the whole thing in some sort of panic. He looked at Derek more intently, squinting to see him in more detail. 

Still on his chest was a gash that was probably a hands’ length long, only an inch wide and not nearly as deep as before. It was the gash from before, the one that spanned Derek’s chest and had cut nearly to the bone. He could see that it had healed significantly, but not nearly as fast as Derek should have healed. 

“Babe,” Stiles moaned, rolling onto his back, one arm thrown over his eyes. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, groaning as he stood. His footsteps were too loud, making Stiles’ head pound with the noise. He walked to what Stiles assumed was the kitchen, the sound of the fridge opening and closing even too loud for Stiles’ poor brain. He returned, dropping a bottle on the ground next to Stiles. 

Stiles squinted at the bottle, making a face when he saw what it was. “You know I hate Gatorade,” Stiles said. Despite saying this, he sat up on his elbows, cracking open the bottle. He took a few cautious sips, glad that it was the pink lemonade kind. After wetting his throat, he took a few more sips, thirstier than he thought. 

“Scared me,” Derek said, sitting slumped on the couch, letting his wound sit face up as it started to get smaller. Since he was now shirtless, Stiles could see that the defensive wounds on his arms were merely small white lines, slowly fading into his skin. 

“What happened?” Stiles asked, crawling over to the couch. He sat at Derek’s feet, leaning his head against his leg. He needed the physical contact, the reassurance that the witch’s magic had been burned out of his body. 

“Stupid witch. Some sort of power surge or something, cut me up,” Derek said, reaching down and touching the top of Stiles’ head with his fingertips, letting his fingers barely touch. 

Stiles reached up and grabbed his hand, sliding their fingers together. “You were attacked by the same one Scott was attacked by,” Stiles said, closing his eyes, trying to relax into the feeling of Derek. 

“Scott was attacked too?” Derek asked, surprise in his voice. 

“Just came back from Beacon Hills, healing him like I did to you,” Stiles said. 

Derek hummed, his thumb stroking across the back of Stiles’ hand. “She attacked me about 30 minutes away from here, as I was heading back. I’ve been looking for her for a while.”

“You drove 30 minutes while being that injured?” Stiles asked, yawning slightly. 

“Had to get back to you,” Derek said, as if this was obvious. 

Those words alone caused Stiles’ heart to flutter at the thought. He couldn’t help but feel content at the notion that he was important, especially to Derek. He pressed a kiss to the side of Derek’s knee, the closest thing to his face. He wished he had the energy for more. 

“Why were you looking for her?” Stiles asked, trying to ask without being imposing or too demanding. 

“She’s Cora’s ex-girlfriend. Thought she might know where Cora is, since I haven’t heard from her in almost a month,” Derek said, his body stiffening up. He seemed unsure about letting this information out, but after a moment he relaxed marginally. 

“Let me know if you need help with that,” Stiles said, sleepily nosing against Derek’s leg. “And please don’t get hurt again.”

“Drink your Gatorade.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How. Long.”
> 
> “Nine months?” Stiles admitted, squeezing his eyes shut as he said it. He flinched, as if waiting for a verbal assault. 
> 
> Lydia took a deep breath, audible over the phone. “Nine! Months!” she screeched, her voice unbearably loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thank you so much for all of the kudos so far! I am anticipating that this will be closer to 6 chapters, since I'm diving a little deeper than my original outline. 
> 
> I'm also taking suggestions for my next fic. You can leave it in the comments, or drop me an ask at my [tumblr](https://rain-or-clouds.tumblr.com/ask/). 
> 
> Thanks again! Enjoy!

In reality, Stiles felt weird going back to classes or work when he had the knowledge of the witch lingering in the back of his brain. 

He knew that Derek was okay, because after a few days, he was up and about doing pushups in Stiles’ apartment as if this was a normal thing to do. In turn, Stiles had to be okay because he was able to go about his days as normal, without any aspect of tiredness or general soreness in his body. They were presumably okay. 

But, there was the fact that Derek had been looking for Cora for almost a month. He had confessed that his frequent trips away were to see her, because he didn’t want Stiles to feel like there was pressure to conform between them. 

“That makes no sense, babe,” Stiles had said, sliding one hand into Derek’s hair. “You can tell her we’re together.”

He couldn’t help but worry about Derek, or about Cora. He was like family to Stiles, and his sister was family in conjunction. Something had to be seriously wrong if Cora, badass Cora, was missing somehow. She was the kind of person who did not run away, and did not go missing easily. Which was not boding well considering their pack’s history. 

Stiles called Derek on his lunch break, sitting with his phone pressed against his ear while he tried to eat a sandwich one-handed. “Hey,” Stiles said when Derek picked up, swallowing around his food. 

“Are you calling me while eating again?” Derek asked, sounding annoyed. 

“Yes. But only because I can’t stop thinking about Cora,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes even though Derek couldn’t see him. 

Derek made a noise into the phone as if in agreement. “I’m running a background check on her ex-girlfriend today. Her name is Ophelia Rose. I talked to your dad and he said he’ll use the police database to find her.”

“You talked to my dad?” Stiles squeaked, almost dropping his sandwich. 

“Yeah, who else would I ask for a background check? He said you left a shirt and some book at his house in your room,” Derek said. 

Stiles couldn’t help but feel kind of weird about this. He liked that they had finally started to get along, to see eye to eye. That worked out fairly well considering the fact that he had once accused Derek of murder, and his dad had once arrested Derek. But, at the same time, there was a weirdness to the fact that Derek felt comfortable calling up his dad and asking for a favor. 

It could be a good thing, though, when Stiles really put his mind to it. If Derek was comfortable enough around his dad, and his dad liked him enough to approve of them dating, then they were really a good pair. 

(Right now was not the time to have a crisis over whether or not he loved Derek.)

“Stiles.”

“Right, we’re talking about the witch,” Stiles said, Derek’s voice startling him back into the conversation. 

“I’m gonna hear back from your dad later this afternoon, so I thought we could go over the info together,” Derek said, his voice sounding kind of quiet. 

“Totally, babe. Can you dig out my book on witches powers? It should be in the stack on my side of the bed. I think I have some relevant things bookmarked in that,” Stiles said, trying to visualize their room in his brain. 

He could hear Derek walking over the phone and took this time to scarf down his sandwich, eating quickly before Derek could really call him out on it. 

“You do know that I can still hear you eating, even if I’m not actively talking to you,” Derek said, voice flat. 

Stiles swallowed quickly. “I’m just trying to eat. I already know I’ll end up talking through my lunch break, and I’d at least like nourishment.”

“I have the book. Looks like you’ve bookmarked parts on power, transference of power, and limitations,” Derek said, voice sounding distracted as he presumably flicked through the book. 

“That’s the one. If you have the time, take a look at it before I get home,” Stiles said, glancing down at his watch. He was trying to keep track of the time so that he didn’t spend the entirety of it talking to Derek on the phone, but he knew that was inevitable. 

Talking to Derek was one of the easiest things in the universe. Even though they used to bicker (aka fight), Stiles was still totally invested in Derek and talking to him. Once they had the ball rolling, it was hard to stop talking. He liked when Derek would tell him stories about his childhood, or even better when he started talking about being a bartender in NYC. He liked hearing about Cora as a child, considering that he really only knew Cora as an adult. 

He also loved hearing what Derek’s first impression of him was. ( _ “Annoying, Stiles, I thought you were annoying.” _ ) And Stiles felt free sharing his first impression of Derek in return. Although, Derek did not necessarily react very well to Stiles telling him he had a fear crush on him from the moment they met. Even though that was entirely fact. 

“I’ll take a look, but no promises. I was going to buy groceries and try and clean up a little,” Derek said, the sounds of movement heard over the phone. 

“Did you grab the grocery list off of the fridge?” Stiles asked, leaning back in his chair. 

“Yes. But I am not getting you a case of root beer just because you like it,” Derek said, sounding annoyed. 

Stiles laughed, shaking his head. “You are such a fun ruiner. Can you at least grab some toaster waffles? Or some bakery cookies or something? I can’t survive without satiating my sweet tooth.”

“I’ll pick up some peanut butter protein bars.”

“Those nasty ones you only eat so you can look like a superhero? Babe, I am not built to eat something like that,” Stiles said, laughing to himself. 

“Fine. But no guarantees that I’ll get cookies. I’m getting whatever’s at the bakery,” Derek said, sounding quiet. 

“I’ll be home around 5 tonight. Should finish a little early,” Stiles said, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. 

“I’ll meet you in our normal spot, walk home together,” Derek said gruffly. 

Stiles smiled broadly at that, his face stretching wide in pure joy. He loved these small moments of affection and displays of care. “Can’t wait.”

“Bye, Stiles,” Derek said before hanging up. 

Even though their conversation was relatively short, Stiles could still feel the tension release from his shoulders and the stress in his body start to ooze away. He couldn’t help but feel better around Derek. 

***

The thing was about supernatural research: there really, truly, was not a lot that was confirmed fact. 

Stiles knew this, as someone who studied mythology and had been the pack’s supernatural Google for some time. He understood the fact that half of what he read was likely untrue, and the half that was true was bathed in so much uncertainty and personal recollection that there was no real way of testing the factual accuracy. 

There were still books that claimed werewolves had knots. And that they were compelled to change under the full moon. And these were written by supposedly reputable hunters. 

It was why the research with Derek was so frustratingly difficult, besides the two of them putting their everything into it. There was no real way of telling what exactly was true, and when Derek had to stop and ask every few minutes, it became relatively difficult to relay information. 

“This is why I usually work alone,” Stiles said, flipping to another page in the hunters tomb he had acquired from Ebay. 

(Surprisingly the tomb was sold by the granddaughter of a hunting family who had stopped hunting when she was a child. She was selling it off under the guise that it was some folklore book, not a prized possession.)

“I understand that now,” Derek said through gritted teeth, snapping a book shut under his hands. “All I want to do is find Cora. She’s the person I’m actually worried about.”

Stiles flipped another page, not wanting to play too heavily into Derek’s frustrations if he could avoid it. It wasn’t as if acting blasé was going to make things any better. He was still sort of unsure how to act around Derek when he was frustrated, even though that was how they spent the majority of the first few years communicating. He didn’t want to hurt Derek anymore. 

“I can try and find a locating spell,” Stiles said, closing his current book and searching across the tiny dining table for the other magical book he had laid out. “There’s one that should work with just my spark, and we can try and see if it will work on a map,” Stiles added, expertly flipping through pages to the one spell he knew was useful.

“Really?” Derek asked, standing and rounding the table to loom over Stiles’ shoulder. 

“Yes,” Stiles said, pointing to the spell in the book. It was written in archaic latin, but one text to Lydia and they should have the entirety of it translated by nightfall. “I’ll text Lydia a picture of this, and can you go start dinner? I will need to be fueled up for any of this to work.”

“Genius,” Derek murmured, kissing the side of Stiles’ head. 

***

The spell was mildly more complicated than originally anticipated, but it was doable. 

Stiles pulled the iron cauldron out of the back of his closet, setting it over the gas burner on the stove, glad that his apartment used gas stoves. He started putting in the required ingredients (dried strawberry leaves, rosemary, lemon rind, purified water, crushed valerian root, maple sap), and continued to stir, muttering a small repetitive incantation under his breath. 

_ By the powers of Moon, Sun, Earth, Fire, Air, and Sea _

_ What once was lost return to me _

The mixture started to smell, bubbling on the stove as it cooked. When it started to change color to a deep red, Stiles gestured for Derek to come closer. “Do you have the item I asked of you? Something that tied you deeply to your sister?” 

“Here,” Derek said quietly, handing over a small coin from an arcade. “It’s from the day before the fire when we went to the arcade. I’ve kept it this whole time,” Derek said, shrugging. 

Stiles pushed down the feelings that he had about the sentiment, refocusing his brain on the task at hand. He quickly wrapped the coin with silver wire, wrapping it tightly to an amber pendant he had on hand. Slowly, he dipped the entire chain, pendant included, into the bubbling liquid. Despite the fact that it was boiling, it wasn’t hot against Stiles’ fingers. He let it sit in the liquid for a moment before pulling it out. 

He expected it to drip, but it appeared as if the liquid was clinging to the pendant, staining it a deep red. He turned towards the open space of countertop where they had laid out a map of California, with subsequently more specific maps laying to the side, ready. They weren’t really sure about her even being in the state, but Derek said his wolf knew she couldn’t be further than Nevada, so it was a safe bet. 

“Derek, I need you to hold the chain with both hands, dangling the pendant an inch over the map. It will twist and turn, but once it starts circling around a specific place, then we are going to switch to the more specific maps, okay? The entire time, I want your eyes closed and your whole conversation to be focused on Cora,” Stiles said, handing him the chain.

Derek took the chain solemnly, eyes closing quickly as he held the chain over the map, his lips pursed as he concentrated. Under his breath he was mumbling the same incantation that Stiles was, which was not required but definitely would help with their search. 

At first, the pendant was erratic, moving all over the place. It slowly started to circle around Redding, and Stiles quickly switched the map for one of Northern California, watching the pendant closely. It became erratic again, but it started circling south of Redding, between Redding and Sacramento. 

Stiles fumbled to find a more detailed map, but he did his best to quickly replace that with a map of national forests, hoping that the pendant would continue to work for long enough to narrow it down. 

The pendant faltered, starting to slow to a stop. “Concentrate!” Stiles urged, watching the movements. The pendant picked up pace again, circling around a part of Mendocino national forest. After a few circles, it fell slack, having narrowed her location down as far as it could at this moment. They would have to know more specifics before trying this again. 

“It’s done,” Stiles said quietly, circling the area on the map that the pendant had been circling. 

Derek opened his eyes slowly, hands going slack as he set the pendant down on the counter. “That’s as specific as it could get?” Derek asked, gesturing towards where Stiles had circled. 

“As specific as it’s going to be this time around. We’re going to have to get a better map, maybe even go out there, before it’s going to give us any sort of answer,” Stiles said, gesturing towards the pendant. 

“This didn’t make me feel any better,” Derek muttered, shaking his head. 

Stiles grabbed his arm, trying to sooth him with a few gentle rubs. “Babe, this is only the first step into figuring out what’s happening. You said you just knew she was in California, and magic said she was going to be out in the woods. We’ve made a lot of progress today,” Stiles said. He was trying to keep his distance, let Derek process without crowding him. 

It was hard for Stiles sometimes, to not be able to comfort him through touch or words. Those were the two things that Stiles had in his comforting tool belt, and they were the things that Derek wanted the least. It was hard to feel like a good boyfriend when he couldn’t help. 

“Do you think she’s just taking an extended vacation? Turned her phone off to get off of the grid?” Derek asked, his voice small and hopeless. 

There was no way that Stiles could respond to that through words. Instead, he wrapped Derek up in a hug, letting him squeeze him too tight, feeling the prick of claws on his back. Derek was holding him as if he was afraid Stiles was suddenly going to disappear. 

“I’m going to call Lydia and Scott right now, and we’ll leave to search for her first thing in the morning,” Stiles whispered, running his hands along Derek’s back soothingly. 

Derek nodded, his chin digging into Stiles’ shoulder. 

After a few more moments, Derek pulled back, shaking his head. “I’m going to go for a run. I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, walking out the front door without a second glance. 

Stiles sighed, clearing up the mess from the magic spell quickly. He packed away the maps, quickly rinsed out the cauldron, and placed the pendant carefully onto the dresser in his room. 

He pulled his laptop out, opening Skype and calling up Scott and Lydia quickly. It only took a minute for both of them to answer, their faces popping up on screen quickly. 

“What’s up?” Scott asked, his laptop clearly propped up on his lap, part of Allison’s head visible on the edge. 

“It’s far too late for social calls,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes. Despite this, she was still in perfect makeup, and her living room behind her was immaculate. 

Stiles adjusted himself on his bed, propping up the laptop on a few pillows. “Not really a social call,” he said, twisting his hands together in front of him. 

“Is that a copy of Dead Souls by Nicholas Gogol?” Lydia asked, squinting at the screen. 

Sure enough, a copy of that book was on Derek’s nightstand, sitting on top of all the other Russian literature books that Derek frequently tortured himself with. It was all incredibly depressing, and Stiles preferred sci-fi or a good novel about the American dream. Not about boring 19th century literature. 

“Yeah, it’s my boyfriends. He likes Russian lit. But that’s not why I’m calling,” Stiles said, trying to blow off Lydia’s question. 

He could see her narrow her eyes, clearly thinking a little deeper and more critically about his comment than he liked. That was not a face of an oblivious Lydia, even if Scott was just shrugging on his half of the screen. 

“I’ve been talking to Derek, and he was attacked by the same witch that you were attacked by, Scott.”

“Really?” Scott asked, frowning. “He’s not dead, is he?”

“How did you find this out?” Lydia asked, raising an eyebrow in question. 

“I found him in my apartment, passed out from the attack. He was lucky that I had just come back from treating you, Scott,” Stiles said, pointedly ignoring the significant looks that Lydia was giving him. “I fixed him up, but he told me that the witch is Cora’s ex-girlfriend.”

“And that’s relevant because?” Lydia asked. 

Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face. “Cora’s been missing for a month. Hasn’t texted or called Derek, despite the fact that she would check in frequently,” Stiles said, shaking his head. 

“So you think that the witch has Cora,” Scott said, frowning as he put the pieces together. Allison poked her head onto screen, the view shifting to show them both. “We’ve been hunting down that witch for weeks now, don’t you think we would have noticed?”

“Not if she was using some sort of cloaking spell to hide her location,” Lydia said, pointing out the obvious. 

“The witch’s name is Ophelia Rose. My dad is running a background check on her, and we’ll know by tomorrow morning what her legal background is. But she’s definitely the witch we’re looking for, and it seems like she’s hiding something,” Stiles said, running his hands through his hair. 

He was good at keeping it together in front of Derek, of showing a strong front. When he wasn’t around, he was feeling himself break down, his heart heavy with worry for Cora and for Derek. He wanted nothing but happiness for both of them, and yet something else was getting in the way of their lives. 

“Are you coming up to Beacon Hills?” Scott asked, Allison nodding in agreement. 

“Derek and I did a location spell for Cora tonight, and it said she’s somewhere in the Mendocino forest, which is just a little bit away. I think we’ll head up in the morning,” Stiles said, shrugging. 

“What brought Derek to you, and not back to Beacon Hills? I thought he’s been grifting this whole time,” Lydia asked, her voice sounding considerately more pointed now. 

She had figured it out. 

“He said he was in the area, I didn’t ask questions because he was dying and then he revealed his sister was missing. His whereabouts weren’t totally my priority,” Stiles said, trying to play it off as casual as possible. He was glad that werewolves couldn't’ hear lies through Skype. 

“I’ll get everything we need prepared for a hunt tomorrow,” Allison said, kissing Scott before sliding out of frame. 

“I’ve got a class at 8am tomorrow, and if I’m going to add more research into my day, I’m going to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow, Stiles,” Lydia said, giving Stiles a Look. This was not something that he had wanted, or really wanted to endure in any way. He kind of liked having Derek all to himself. 

“Talk later,” Stiles said, shutting his computer. 

Now it was time to worry until Derek came back, and then worry until they arrived in Beacon Hills, and then worry until they found Cora. 

***

Stiles woke up early to pack their bags, letting Derek sleep in a little longer. He had clearly had a hard time sleeping, based on the fact that he was considerably clingier than usual when they were falling asleep the night before. He was a cuddler normally, but he was wrapped around Stiles as if Stiles was going to disappear in the night. 

He had pulled out Derek’s usual duffel bag, neatly folding in three changes of clothes for the two of them, tucking an extra hoodie in there for himself. He went into their bathroom, grabbing toothbrushes and deodorants, putting them into a travel bag and sliding that into the duffel. 

His phone started buzzing where he had left it on the bed, and Stiles quickly snatched it before the vibrations woke Derek. It was Lydia, following through on her promise to call. 

“Hey,” Stiles answered quietly, walking out of their bedroom and down the hallway, trying to put as much distance between him and Derek as possible. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally wake Derek while being interrogated. 

“I think you might have something to tell me,” Lydia said ominously. 

“I plead the fifth,” Stiles said, sitting on the floor, back against the fridge. 

“So how many times have you hooked up with Derek?” Lydia asked, sounding entirely smug. 

How many times? What was she trying to insinuate? How was Stiles even supposed to count 9 months of sex? 

“I don’t know, Lyds. I kind of wasn’t keeping count,” Stiles said, frowning. He picked at his pajama pants, confused at this particular line of questioning. 

“Didn’t realize you had that much time to sex him up,” Lydia mused. 

“I have plenty of time,” Stiles said, his voice almost questioning. He wanted her to cut to the chase. 

“C’mon, Stiles. When did you start hooking up with him? Had to be recently, because you would have told me by now if it’s been more than a month,” Lydia said. 

This was not good. There was really no way out of this, and he was not going to escape Lydia’s wrath after this one. Even though he wasn’t intentionally hiding it (no one asked about his love life anymore), he was going to get hell for not shouting it from the rooftops. 

“This long pause is not giving me any confidence,” Lydia said.   
“It’s been a while,” Stiles said, cringing at his own vagueness. He was afraid to be specific now, knowing that Lydia’s reaction was not going to be good at all. 

“How. Long.”

“Nine months?” Stiles admitted, squeezing his eyes shut as he said it. He flinched, as if waiting for a verbal assault. 

Lydia took a deep breath, audible over the phone. “Nine! Months!” she screeched, her voice unbearably loud. She started ranting, mostly to herself but partially to Stiles. The most clear part of her rant was the fact that Stiles was an asshole, but there was definitely more to it. 

When she stopped, Stiles felt confident enough to speak again. “Are you done?”

“Done? Stiles, you lied about dating Derek for nine months. I’m not done, and I don’t think I ever will be,” Lydia said, voice sharp. 

“He’s a private guy, and no one asked. So it never came up,” Stiles said, shrugging as if she could see him. That was the truth, though. He never wanted to hide anything, but the topic never came up. There was not really a lot to say. 

“But he has access to your apartment,” Lydia said, as if this was somehow evidence of how serious this was. 

“I mean, it’s kind of  _ our _ apartment, but sure,” Stiles said, rubbing at the knee of his pajama pants. He was trying to downplay it, to make it not seem as serious as it was, but he could see how serious things were between them. They were living together, and yet neither had said the L word. 

“Stiles! I can’t believe you right now,” Lydia said, sounding actually put off. 

“I’m sorry! It never came up, and no one ever asked.”

“So when I asked if you had a date to Scott and Allison’s wedding in December, and you said you already had a date, you meant Derek? I thought that you were going to find some random girl or guy in your program,” Lydia said, sounding quiet. 

“Why is it so hard to believe that I could be in a happy relationship? That I wanted to keep things in our little bubble, for the peak amount of happiness?” Stiles asked, starting to feel kind of weird about Lydia’s choice of words. He liked to think that he was allowed to be happy, and that his privacy and happiness was not a shock. 

“I believe you, I just think it’s strange that you hid it from us,” Lydia said. 

“Again, I didn’t hide anything. No one bothered asking.”

He was sort of feeling like this was going to boil over into a fight if the heat didn’t get turned down right now. He did not really appreciate the insinuation that his life was so unimportant and insignificant that he had to shout out every new event just to receive attention from his pack. 

“I should have asked. Everyone should have asked.”

“Thank you, Lydia. Now, can I let you go so I can finish packing? We’ve got a sister to find,” Stiles said, standing. He wanted to put this conversation behind him, just to have a better start to a presumably awful next few days. 

“Talk later, Stilinski.” Lydia hung up first, the phone silent before Stiles could even think about responding. 

Instead of continuing to pack, Stiles crawled back into bed with Derek for a few more minutes. He could enjoy cuddling with his boyfriend for a bit before they actually had to leave. 

***

The road was silent, but that was expected considering the hour. They had hit the road at 8am, and once they had got past a chunk of morning traffic, it was smooth sailing. He knew they’d hit another patch of traffic closer to Sacramento, but it was nice to have a smoother start to the morning. It helped put the conversation with Lydia in the back of his mind. 

But there was a different subject he wanted to know a little bit more about. 

“Derek, can I ask you something?” Stiles asked, fiddling with the corner of his flannel. He was starting to feel nervous about asking him at all, but he was far too curious to not ask. 

Derek glanced over at him quickly, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “You almost never call me Derek,” he said, his voice quiet. 

Now that Stiles thought about it, he almost never did. This wasn’t a conscious thing; he always called Derek a pet name. Most frequently ‘babe’. But, this specific moment warranted the proper name, to signal that he wanted a proper answer. 

“You’ve always taken little trips away, and before you were looking for Cora, what were you doing? Why did you need to leave?” Stiles asked, scrunching his face after he spoke, trying not to come off as intense as he felt on the inside. This question was tumbling in his brain since Derek had admitted to searching for Cora, but the leaving had happened long before Cora went AWOL. He couldn’t help but wonder why. 

Derek took his time to answer, his body considerably more tense as he drove, his fists clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel. He opened his mouth a few times, as if to say something, but he quickly shut it. He seemed unsure of how to answer. 

When Stiles couldn’t stand it anymore, he waved his hand as if waving it off. “It’s fine, Derek, I get it. If you can’t answer, it’s okay.”

“I’m trying to find the words,” Derek said quietly, almost inaudibly. 

Stiles let himself wait a few more long moments, staring out the window at the cars on the freeway, trying not to think of how his heart was skipping a beat at the thought of Derek not caring for him like he cared for Derek. The thought of the care and intensity he had not being mutual was really difficult to process. 

“I’m afraid to commit to anything. I thought that leaving and seeing Cora, or just staying somewhere else for a few days, was better than—” Derek cut himself off, pressing his lips together tight. 

There was a thick silence in the car, the air between them tense and hard with both of their feelings. 

“I don’t have a good track record, and I did not want to inflict that on you. I went with Cora, or I slept in my car parked in a state park. It was not about you, but about not wanting any hearts to break,” Derek said, his words picked carefully and his voice slow and steady. 

The thought of Derek, sleeping alone in his car because he was afraid that what they had would turn sour, was hard. It was hard to imagine now that they at one point had not been enough, and that Derek did not feel as comfortable as he clearly did now. Stiles didn’t like thinking about the fact that they could turn out like any of Derek’s other exes, or that he was anything like them. 

“I’m not any of them,” Stiles said, reaching over and touching Derek’s arm with the barest touch. “I’m not them, and what we have is good. I just wanted to know why you were gone, and I wish I had made you feel more secure. I hope that you feel good enough about us that you have legit reasons for skipping out for a few days,” Stiles continued, leaning back in his seat, relaxing. 

Derek didn’t seem to relax at all with Stiles’ reassurance. 

“Der. Babe,” Stiles said, letting his fingers trail along Derek’s arm. “I want you to officially move in. I know we haven’t really talked about it, but I want you to move all of your stuff into my apartment. I want you to feel like it’s ours. I never formally asked because we’ve been living together so long, but I want to show you I’m in for the long haul,” Stiles said, letting himself ramble a little bit. 

“I love you.”

The words cut through the car sharply and unexpectedly. 

These were words that Stiles had not thought he would ever hear from Derek, even if they had continued to date forever. He was content with knowing that Derek had relationship issues that might never be solved, and as long as Derek trusted him he was okay. He didn’t really need the assurance that he was loved, but he couldn’t help the warm feeling in his belly from growing. 

“Babe, I love you too. More than you know,” Stiles said, leaning over the console to rest his head on Derek’s shoulder. “Can we get matching t-shirts now? Ones that say ‘I love this idiot’ or something?” 

Dere pushed at Stiles’ head, rolling his eyes. “Only you would ruin a tender moment with a joke.”

“And yet you love me,” Stiles said, sitting back on his own side. “Now, can we play the Alphabet game? I know there’s not a lot left in the drive, but I’m very good,” Stiles said, flicking at Derek’s arm. 

“Fine,” Derek conceded. 

Within seconds, Stiles was shouting words on signs, blasting through letters quickly. “Auto! Between! Car! Deal! Eco!” Stiles shouted, watching outside with a little more intensity. 

Derek slipped one hand off of the steering wheel and onto Stiles’ thigh, his thumb rubbing small circles. Almost immediately, Stiles set one of his hands on top, squeezing Derek’s. He liked when they sat like this, when they were physical. It made him feel more solid, and loved. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why is it so implausible that Derek and I are in a relationship?” Stiles asked, pushing past his dad to grab at his phone, trying to figure out the casserole recipe. He tried to act as nonchalant as possible, but it was hard with his Dad looking that intensely at him. 
> 
> He turned around to see his dad looking between the two of them, eyes focusing a little harder on Derek than necessary. He could see the wheels turning behind the careful blank expression, evidence of his father trying to hide his surprise. This seemed like not as good of an idea as Stiles had originally thought, but it was too late now. His dad just had to deal with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thank you so much for the comments and kudos so far. Y'all really make my day, and it makes writing this even easier. 
> 
> If you didn't notice, I bumped the chapters up to 6. I think after this will be a big finale chapter, and then a closing/epilogue chapter. We'll see where the wind takes me. 
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr [here](https://rain-or-clouds.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I'm taking suggestions for my next fic, so if you have anything you want please let me know.

Their arrival in Beacon Hills was quiet. 

They turned up at Stiles’ dad’s house, Derek lugging their shared duffel bag into the house and leaving it at the base of the stairs. The house was quiet, but there was a faint noise coming from the kitchen. 

“Dad?” Stiles asked, walking further into the house. He felt Derek following closely behind him, his fingers grazing across Stiles’ back as they moved through the house and towards the back. 

John was leaning against the counter, quietly listening to a cooking video. “I’m trying to learn how to make this easy casserole, but it’s a lot harder in the video than I thought,” John grumbled, tossing the phone aside at the sound of Stiles. When he looked up, he did a double take at the sight of Derek. “Didn’t think y’all were coming in the same car. I didn’t have a chance to set up a guest bed, if Derek’s staying here.”

“He can stay with me,” Stiles said, shrugging. “What’s this about a casserole?”

“With you?” John asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Why is it so implausible that Derek and I are in a relationship?” Stiles asked, pushing past his dad to grab at his phone, trying to figure out the casserole recipe. He tried to act as nonchalant as possible, but it was hard with his Dad looking that intensely at him. 

He turned around to see his dad looking between the two of them, eyes focusing a little harder on Derek than necessary. He could see the wheels turning behind the careful blank expression, evidence of his father trying to hide his surprise. This seemed like not as good of an idea as Stiles had originally thought, but it was too late now. His dad just had to deal with it. 

“Congratulations are in order then. How long have you been hiding this from me?” John asked, reaching into a low cabinet to get out the good whiskey. 

“Nine months,” Stiles said, not looking up at his father. 

“It’s ten next week,” Derek corrected, as if that particular made any difference in the immediate moment. 

John almost dropped the whiskey. 

“Did we decide on a firm date? When six rolled around you tried to tell me that it didn’t matter,” Stiles said, raising an eyebrow at Derek. He put his dad’s phone down, reaching to grab a pen and paper from the junk drawer. He was blatantly ignoring his father’s expression. 

“It’s the 27th, Stiles. I just told you that because I forgot a gift,” Derek said, shrugging. He weaved around John to join Stiles, looking over at the recipe. “What can I do?” Derek asked quietly. 

“You two acting normal is weird,” John said, gesturing between them. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you and dad go over the information so we can start a preliminary search tonight, yeah?” Stiles said quietly, bumping into Derek with his shoulder. He was trying his hardest to be both supportive and casual, knowing that right now, more than ever, he had to be a rock for Derek. 

“Okay,” Derek said quietly. He let his fingers trail along Stiles’ arm as he moved away. He was not the most affectionate person in public, and definitely not a fan of any strict forms of PDA, but this was big. Him touching Stiles, acknowledging him physically, was big when in front of people. Stiles was glad he felt comfortable enough for that. 

The two of them left the room, leaving Stiles to his devices. He was trying not to think of facing the music once they met up with the pack. 

***

The casserole was in the oven, Scott had texted that he and Allison were coming over, and the night was set. 

The woman, Ophelia Rose, had very little official record. It was extremely clean, and her last address was listed for an abandoned lot in Sacramento, which meant that she was clearly hiding something. She had no known relatives, and after some deeper searching, almost nothing else about her. No social media, no bank records, nothing. Not even a cell phone. This was mildly alarming. 

“What are you going to do?” Stiles asked, leaning into Derek’s side as he glanced over all of the information again. 

Derek’s arm slipped around his waist, fingers sliding under his shirt in a search for bare skin. “Search for her tonight. We can go with Scott to where he got hurt, see if we can’t work backwards from there,” Derek said, sounding considerably more grim. 

It was easy to block out the intensity of the situation. Both of them had dealt with enough trauma to compartmentalize and move forward, and the little bubble they had earlier seemed like miles away. 

“We can always break out the chain, try and use it here and see if it will lead us anywhere,” Stiles said, making a face. “I have a map of Beacon Hills in my room somewhere, I’ll go grab it.”

He slipped away, taking the stairs two at a time. His room, ever since he went to college, was a mess of things he had left there and never picked up again. Finding the map was a little harder than anticipated, the map shoved under his bed and underneath a few old textbooks. It was at least flat, instead of curling up on itself. 

He could hear Scott and Allison come in downstairs, their voices cheerful at the sight of Derek. Stiles took the stairs down quickly, smiling when he saw his friends.

“Scott! Alli!” Stiles said, giving each of them a half hug. “We were going to have dinner and test out the locator pendant on a Beacon Hills map,” Stiles said, lifting the map in the air. 

“Sounds like a plan. What can I do to help?” Allison said, dropping her bag down, clapping her hands together. 

“Plates and utensils? You can put them on the table after we do this,” Stiles said, pulling at Derek’s elbow. 

They made their way to the dining table, Stiles smoothing out the map. He slipped the pendant out of his pocket, handing it to Derek. “The same as before. Think of her, and maybe repeat that incantation. The pendant seemed to like that last time,” Stiles said, making eye contact with Derek. 

“I trust you,” Derek muttered, grabbing the pendant as he did last time. 

Stiles could feel the eyes of Scott and his dad on them as they did this small spell, Derek’s hands shaking slightly as he held the pendant above the map. He could feel the pressure of the magic to work, and it was not easy for Stiles to keep his own concentration. 

The pendant bounced and jumped a few times, but was seemingly unable to make any sort of distinct pattern. If she wasn’t in Beacon Hills, or on the map in general, the pendant would lie perfectly still, without movement. Circling meant a location. Bouncing and jumping meant magical interference. 

Stiles reached up and grabbed Derek’s hands, his eyes sliding closed. He felt his own magic, curled around his core. He brought it up to his fingertips, pushing the slightest amount of it through his hands and into Derek’s, pushing the magic into the pendant. 

This seemed to kickstart the motion, the pendant swinging wildly for a few moments before starting to circle around a spot north of town, where the preserve was. It was beyond the Hale house, which was marked on the map. It seemed to be nearly another mile out, if not further. 

He quickly circled it with a pen, watching the pendant for any more movement. When it continued its steady circling, Stiles grabbed it from Derek’s hands, watching as Derek opened his eyes slowly. “Somewhere north of the house,” Stiles said, gesturing towards the map. 

“We have to go now,” Derek said, gesturing towards the map. “She could be hurt, or dead, and I’m not losing another sister to those woods I’m not—” Derek started, his breath speeding up. With this concrete data, it was like the reality of the situation had started to dawn on him, the implications of her being missing so long now suddenly much more clear. 

“Babe,” Stiles said, laying a hand on Derek’s arm. He caught Derek’s attention, his eyes boring into Stiles’. “If she was hurt, or dead, there would be damage to the amber. It would be cracked or shattered, which it is clearly not. It means that she is definitely alive,” Stiles said, moving further into Derek’s space.

“Mean it?” Derek whispered, letting himself be drawn in. 

“Yes. Can we eat quickly? Then go search? I don’t want you to wear yourself out by staying up night after night just because you’re scared,” Stiles said, smoothing a hand down Derek’s chest. “After dinner we can look all night.”

Derek nodded, slumping down into one of the dining chairs. “Whatever you say.”

From the other side of the room, Scott said, “What just happened?”

***

Stiles was mildly grateful for the fact that Scott didn’t ask questions while Derek was clearly in a state of disarray. There was no way to truly have positive feelings when searching for a missing sister, but exhausting yourself before even really searching was not the way to go about things. Stiles was not going to watch Derek run himself into the ground, because he knew that if he was doing the same, Derek would stop him. 

After they had both ate a small portion, they had piled into Stiles’ Jeep, Derek eager to start the search. 

Driving through town as the light started to slip from the sky made the search more ominous than it had to be. There was a level of intensity as they drove down the smaller highway towards the woods, the sun slipping behind the trees and leaving an ominously blue sky. They could see it darkening as they drove, the headlights becoming more and more necessary. 

“What are we going to do once we get to a starting place?” Allison asked, her quiet voice breaking the silence within the car. 

“We are going to split up. Derek and Stiles, you and me,” Scott said, his voice focused. “We are going to search northwest and southwest, looking for any scents or magical clues to the wearabouts. We’re going to meet back at the Jeep after two hours have passed, and start the search again in the morning when it’s light,” Scott said decisively. 

Stiles nodded, affirming for both him and Derek. In the passenger seat, Derek clenched his hands, staying quiet. This was a familiar look, from their adventures in town saving and kidnapping. This was the Derek who was not going to stop until it was figured out and his sister was found. 

They pulled into a small gravel outlet on the road where Stiles had originally marked on the map. Nothing seemed disturbed or out of place, which was a clue. Whether it was a good or bad clue was what they were going to find out. 

Armed with flashlights, they started into the woods. Stiles and Derek started northwest while Scott and Allison started southwest, the pairs nodding gravely to each other before setting off. 

The woods were always ominous at night, but even more so with the thought of a deranged witch who had hurt multiple werewolves. The walk, methodical and paced, let Stiles’ mind wander. 

How were they going to stop the witch? If it came down to a battle, her abilities could incapacitate a werewolf efficiently, so they couldn’t fight hand to hand. Allison could hide out in the trees and shoot from a distance, but if she was discovered, the powerful strike the witch had was presumably lethal. 

There were protection options that could allow a better access to the witch, but there were not a lot of options that Stiles could specifically create. He was limited as a spark, and while the tracking spell could work, he was more of a conduit than a creator. He could truly only amplify what already existed, and creating things out of nothing was more difficult and taxing for him. 

If Derek or Scott already had something that was protective, or could channel protection, then Stiles could somehow use a protection spell on the already protective items and add his own spark to it. It would be easy with Allison if she had a bulletproof vest or some other sort of tactical jacket, but with the werewolves it would need to be an already magical item for it to work as accurately and intensely. 

Derek’s arm lifted in the air and stopped Stiles, catching him across the chest. He was immediately drawn out of his thoughts and into the present, eyes scanning wildly as he whipped the flashlight back and forth. 

“Is there something?” Stiles asked, glancing at Derek. 

“No. There’s nothing,” Derek said, sniffing the air. 

“Nothing?” Stiles asked, slightly confused. 

“Nothing. No scent, not even natural scents,” Derek said, shaking his head. 

Stiles bent to the ground, shoving his hand into the top layer of dirt and leaves. He concentrated on the magic that was inherently within the earth, magic that would typically thrum underneath their feet at all times. 

“There’s nothing. I feel nothing,” Stiles said, frowning at the lack of magical feedback. It was essentially impossible not to have magic coursing through the earth, which meant one of two things: the magic was being sucked out, or there was something masking the area. 

Stiles told Derek as much, glancing around as if he was going to see the witch standing there. 

“It’s masked. That would be what took the scent away,” Derek said, his claws sliding out, eyes flashing blue. He growled lowly, his teeth bared and wet. 

“If it’s masked, then there is a lot more I have to do to figure out where she is. We aren’t going to stumble upon her lair anytime soon. It’s likely that she’s using a spell to push us away from the area, making us take paths that lead us away from her. We can’t do anything tonight,” Stiles, said, gently placing his hand on Derek’s arm. 

When he touched him, Derek spun quickly, growling at Stiles. This caused him to jump back, flinching and cowering, as if waiting for something more. 

Derek’s face immediately cleared, his stance completely human again. “Fuck. I’m sorry,” Derek said, holding up his hands to show perfectly human fingers. 

“It’s fine,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “Still scares me though.”

“I shouldn’t take my anger out on you,” Derek muttered, his hands clenched into fists. 

“Isn’t anger your anchor? Figured you’d still need that,” Stiles pointed out. 

Derek shook his head. “Hasn’t been my anchor for a while. Let’s head back.” With that said, Derek started back the way they came, leading the way through the trampled vegetation and broken branches from their path into the woods. 

***

The morning was quiet, and Stiles woke up to an empty bed. The other side was cold, the blankets tucked carefully around Stiles as if done with great care. There was no note, which was unusual for Stiles to wake up alone without one. He strained his hearing, trying to hear down in the kitchen to see if Derek was just awake making coffee or breakfast. 

When all he heard was silence, Stiles got out of bed, throwing a sweatshirt on and making a pit stop at the bathroom before heading downstairs. He kept his ears strained, trying to hear anything that would give him a signal that Derek was still here and okay. 

The entire downstairs was empty, and after a quick glance, the Jeep was missing from the driveway. 

There was a note stuck to the counter, almost unnoticeable until Stiles was right in front of it. 

_ Be back by 9. D.  _

Stiles glanced at the microwave clock, seeing that it was only 8am. Plenty of time for Derek to come back if the mysterious 9 meant 9am. There was nothing to worry about yet. At least, Stiles hoped there was nothing to worry about. 

He started a pot of coffee and some toast, rubbing his face as he started to wake up fully. 

There was a lot to be done, as far as research went. He had to call Lydia and see if she knew anything about cloaking spells off of the top of her head. He also had to figure out some sort of anti-cloaking spell, and then a protection spell for all of the hunting counterparts. He wrote all of these things down, trying to add notes as he did in hopes that it would help clarify his thoughts later. 

He rubbed his eyes again, trying to think of anything he had read that would be helpful to this specific issue. He had books on spells and magic at his apartment, but he knew those ones front to back. They were more about magical theory and spark specific magic instead of the things that he really needed. 

He sat at the dining table with his toast and coffee, trying to write out his thoughts and collect them into groups. He had a lot to do, and getting wrapped up in his own tangle of a brain was not a part of today. 

He knew that the protective spell was likely to be the hardest, but he knew roughly what would need to happen. He had a book with runes that would likely be the most helpful. He could easily push his spark into a rune, much like a witch would. He already did the research back when Lydia asked about them. If she had asked, then it was likely that this witch also based her magic off of runes. It might be easier to break the runes than try and figure out the ingredients for a magic spell. 

He doodled the runes for protection from memory on the paper, pushing the tiniest amount of magic through his fingertips and into the rune. 

The paper lit up into a glow for a second before dimming down, the rune appearing shiny and deeper than the ink of his pen. When he lifted the paper and attempted to tear it, the paper wouldn’t tear. It was like a fabric instead of a paper, now that he had magicked it. 

So his idea of a protection rune could work. It could be useful. 

If a protection rune could work, then he didn’t have to worry about finding a magical item for the werewolves. He thought that they might need a little more than runes, but if they didn’t, then it made things considerably easier. Not as if he could test out these theories before they ran into battle. 

He doodled a few more runes focused on health and luck, finding the easiest way to intertwine them to provide the largest breadth of protection possible. The thing about combining runes that he wanted to be careful about was diminishing their individual power. Combining too many could risk a weaker combination overall, with Stiles’ limited spark magic. 

He was chewing on the end of the pen when he heard the front door open, the door shutting quietly. “Hey,” Stiles called out, just loud enough for Derek to hear him. 

Derek ambled into the dining room, stopping when he saw Stiles staring down at the paper. “Busy?”

“Nah, babe, sit. Just trying to gameplan today. I have some ideas for what needs magic, and I have to call Lydia about some of it. But, I tested it on this piece of paper. Try to rip it,” Stiles said, shoving the paper over towards Derek. 

Hesitantly, he took the paper in his hands, attempting to rip it. When it didn’t give easily, Derek frowned down at it, looking at it as if it was personally offensive. “You did this.”

“Yeah. It’s just a little protection rune, but I figured that in the heat of the moment, it could protect from at least one hit from the witch,” Stiles said, shrugging. 

Derek leaned across the table, pulling Stiles into a quick but fierce kiss. “Genius.”

“Thanks. That’s actually a welcomed compliment,” Stiles said, sighing as Derek released him. He smiled, taking the paper back. “I was going to try it on your leather jacket, if you would let me,” Stiles said, pointing towards the rune combinations that he had marked up. 

He nodded swiftly, taking his jacket off and laying it on the table. “Whatever it takes.”

“Babe, I am going to do everything I can so we can get her back. Today, if I have it my way,” Stiles said, clutching the leather jacket in his hands. “I want you to go and Scott to go back out there and see if anything has changed, if she’s caught on to us. If not, find a perimeter so I can start thinking about how widespread her magic is and how powerful she is as a witch. I gotta call Lydia and get started on these runes.”

“I’ll call if anything happens,” Derek said, standing. He reached over and caressed Stiles’ face tenderly before walking right out the front door, disappearing. 

There was a lot of work to do, but Stiles was determined. He had to do it for Cora. She deserves more than being held up in some witch’s lair. 

***

“So, I compiled everything that called me about earlier,” Lydia started with, her face animated over Skype. She held up a rune drawn on a piece of paper, far more elegant and intricate than Stiles could have come up with. “This combination should be the strongest for all of the ones you wanted to use together. You could draw each separately on the jacket, but I don’t think it would have the same effect. They would start to cancel each other out,” Lydia said, holding the rune in front of the screen for Stiles to copy down. 

“I’m still waiting for Scott and Derek to come back with an idea of the perimeter of her protected space. If she’s trying to protect more and more of the forest, I’m hoping that spreads her magic thin. If she’s already carving runes and enhancing them in other places in town as if to mark her territory, she’s going to stretch too thin,” Stiles said, riffling through the papers on his desk, trying to find the one most relevant to this particular conversation. 

“She is likely very powerful, based on the descriptions of the wounds. I made sure to look up offensive wound types in the beastiary and witches frequently don’t use lashes because they take so much energy,” Lydia said, flipping her hair over one shoulder. 

“So she’s already wearing herself out because she’s using the most powerful strikes every time,” Stiles mused, shaking his head slightly. 

“She should be fairly easy to take down once she starts to wear out, it’s just waiting until she’s used up her power,” Lydia said, pressing her lips together tight. 

“What about seeing through her blind cover to find the location of Cora? I can’t think of a single way to get through her magical protection without wearing myself out first,” Stiles said, finally pulling out the right paper. “In my personal magic book, it says I can force her magic out, but that’s going to take all of my energy. I can also create a more powerful locator pendant, but we don’t know if that’s going to work completely,” Stiles added, reading from his notes. 

“There’s one idea, but you’re going to hate it,” Lydia said. 

“Tell me.”

“You could claim the land as the official emissary to the McCall pack,” Lydia said. 

That was the last thing that Stiles wanted to hear. Part of going away for college was ensuring that he was not going to be trapped within the snarling brambles of Beacon Hills or the dangerous entanglements of the Nemeton. He wanted to get away from those things because he could still feel that bit of darkness lingering at the back of his mind. He remembered that day that he had to half drown to find his dad, and he had vowed never to get caught up in the intensity of the Nemeton again. He never wanted to be tied to Beacon Hills so permanently. 

Declaring himself the official emissary would also tie himself to Scott. While they were the same pack, and he would always be Stiles’ brother, he was not ready to commit to living in Beacon Hills at all. After graduation, Stiles was going to move to Sacramento at the closest and live his life, maybe work on a doctorate. Not become a magical slave to a chunk of land. 

“I can’t, Lyds. You know just as well as me how being sucked into the life of Beacon Hills often ruins everything.”

“It’s an option, Stiles. I’m still looking. I think drawing runes of your own could help open things up, but there has to be something about seeing, or having sight through something,” Lydia mused, trailing off. 

“Wait, I think I know something,” Stiles said, pieces of information clicking in his brain. The thought of sight or seeing through the magical fog had Stiles thinking about a particular spell in one of the books, one that was about revealing all. 

He flipped through the pages quickly, landing on the one thing he had passed over, thinking the spell irrelevant. “True Sight. It’s a spell about seeing through magical guises, but it doesn’t specify anything about location concealment, but I don’t know why it wouldn’t work.”

“That has to be it, Stiles. It has to. I knew you would find something,” Lydia said, looking far more hopeful than before. 

“I have to go finish Derek’s jacket and prepare for this. Talk soon,” Stiles said, quickly ending the call. 

The more and more they put pieces together, the closer it felt like to finding Cora. 

***

Stiles knew it was getting dark again. The light in his room was slipping away slowly until it was impossible to see without a lamp or the overheads turned on. He knew they were starting to run out of time in the day, but there was nothing he could do. Magic was time consuming, and the fact that he had three magical shields to create and reinforce the pendant for tracking only made things go slower. There was so much that needed to be done, and he could feel himself getting drained and weaker. 

“How much longer?” Derek asked from the doorway, trying to be nonchalant but failing miserably. The pain in his eyes and the tenseness in his stance was now permanent, and would be so until they got Cora back. 

“I’m working as fast as I can,” Stiles said, painting on the last few lines of the rune onto Derek’s jacket. 

“I asked how long,” Derek snipped, sounding impatient. 

Stiles whirled to face him, eyes hard. “Derek,” he said in warning, not wanting to lash out and hurt him. All he wanted was to finish his job, to let them do another recon without getting sucked up into the cloaking spell. 

“How could it possibly take this long? It’s just some runes,” Derek said, gesturing towards his jacket, the back decorated with a huge depiction of the rune that Lydia designed. It was painted on with a thick red liquid, a potion specifically for this purpose. 

Things like this took time. 

“I had to make the potion and then painstakingly recreate the rune, and you’re complaining about time and how easy this is? I want to see you try,” Stiles said bitterly, rolling his eyes. 

He cleared his head quickly, trying to think of only positive memories of Cora. He concentrated hard, pushing his own magic into the jacket. He felt woozy with that last push, his brain feeling foggy and the room starting to blur. 

“Here,” Stiles mumbled, moving to stand. The moment he stood, his knees buckled, sending him to the ground. 

He could feel Derek rush over, his hands touching his body and trying to assess any damage. He tried to open his eyes, to reassure in any way possible, but he was taxed. Magic like this, and pushing all that he could to protect Derek specifically, left him drained. He had worked so hard all day, he needed to rest before they moved forward in any way. 

“Stiles,” Derek said urgently above him, his hands cradling Stiles’ face. His thumbs swept across pale cheeks, trying to get any sort of reaction out of him. 

“It’s hard work,” Stiles mumbled, almost incoherent. 

Derek let out a laugh sob, leaning down to press his ear against Stiles’ heart. “I fucking get that now,” Derek said, holding him tight. “Killing yourself to save my sister is kind of counter intuitive,” Derek added, hands reaching bare skin. He started to pull pain, but there was only the barest amount from Stiles’ sore muscles. There was nothing Derek could physically do to help him. 

“Bed,” Stiles whispered, closing his eyes tight against the bright lights above. He wanted to sleep for a thousand years, but that was not possible. He needed to wake up as soon as he was better to search for Cora. He needed to. 

Derek lifted him into bed, taking special care to lay down next to him, arms circling him as if Stiles was going to disappear. “Sleep,” Derek urged, petting at Stiles wherever he could get his hands. 

“You… have to… go recon,” Stiles muttered, trying not to give into the pull. He wanted to so badly, but there was so much more fighting left to do. He didn’t want to stop, he didn’t want to sleep it off. But he could feel himself slipping anyways. 

***

“This will work?” Scott asked, looking at his favorite hoodie, now totally marked up with the runes that Stiles had drawn up. 

“Don’t question Stiles’ work,” Derek said, a hard edge to his voice. 

Derek trusted Stiles with his whole heart, and he hated when someone like Scott, his supposed best friend, questioned him. Stiles was clearly the best of the bunch, and yet he had someone like Scott still asking after him as if he was a child doing homework. There was no wonder why Stiles didn’t want to move back and join a more permanent place in the pack. There was not a lot of trust and faith to move back to. 

“Sheesh, Derek. Don’t have to be so defensive,” Scott said, holding his hands up in front of him. 

“I’m just grateful for the hard work and perfection,” Derek said quietly, shrugging on his own jacket. He could feel the magic pricking at his skin, seeping into who he was as a person. He could tell, just by looking, that his had slightly more care and magic pressed into it. He wanted to gloat, but held that in. 

“Still an ass,” Scott mumbled. He titled his head side to side, as if to crack his neck, before flashing his eyes red. 

Wordlessly, Derek stalked away from him and towards the area where they presumed the witch to be hiding. 

When Stiles had them looking for perimeters to her magic, they had found the area to be wide, but a definite epicenter somewhere near the stream. Scott had guessed she was slumming it underground. Derek had a far more practical guess that she had a cabin she was cloaking, and had merely extended that cloaked area outwards. 

(Scott liked to pretend like he was the smart one, but without the pressures of keeping a slew of teenagers alive, Derek was actually the smart one of the two.)

Derek had brought up the idea of a magical epicenter to Stiles, which led him to fortifying the pendant in his pocket. It should give off some sort of magical sensation when they started to get closer to their identified target, but it was like searching for a needle in a haystack. There were miles of woods to cover, and Derek feared that their time was running out. 

At this point, there was no way that the witch had not picked up on two wolves running around her safehouse, and considering that she had already attacked both of them, she probably felt confident in striking them out again. This time, without transport and nearly 30 minutes away from Stiles, they had little hope of making it out alive. At least Derek was smart enough to attack her near his car. 

“Should we have a game plan?” Scott asked. “Wait, I’m the Alpha I’m supposed to have the game plan,” Scott added, more for himself than for Derek. 

“We are going to attempt to locate where she is staying. No contact, just confirmation that she is there, and that she has Cora,” Derek said, walking stiffly. He hated this part of any sort of action, the part where it was all waiting and not doing. While he didn’t have the best track record for the ‘doing’ part, he still hated the waiting. It was where people got hurt most frequently. 

(He felt guilty leaving Stiles passed out on his bed. He wanted so badly to crawl in with Stiles and make sure that he was okay, but he had his sister. Loving someone outside of his family was harder than Derek anticipated.)

Scott merely nodded at this plan, falling in line to watch Derek’s back and follow his orders. Even after all this time, Scott really wasn’t an Alpha. 

As they walked, Derek tried not to think about the task at hand too deeply. He didn’t want to think about his sister, or the fact that she was missing for a month. 

But, thinking about Stiles only made him realize how much of a coward he has been. Stiles was reaching out and making sure that Derek was okay, worrying about him when he left, and Derek had been keeping him in the dark about everything. He was only visiting his sister, and yet he felt bad about not clueing Stiles in. He cared too much to exclude him anymore. 

“Smell that?” Scott asked, his head perked up. 

“It’s the smell of sulfur,” Derek said, his eyes narrowing in the darkness. He had decent vision in the dark, but he couldn’t see anything that would directly produce that smell. “Must be the witch.”

He strained his ears, hoping to hear something besides Scott. There were no audible sounds from the forest, and the quiet was eerie. It was very rare that there was an absence of background noise. He was used to various animal noises as a constant hum. 

“She has to be close then,” Scott said, glancing around warily. Sometimes, he was still the 16 year old that Derek had first met. He was acting a lot like that right now. 

Derek didn’t say anything, instead moving forward silently. As they moved, he followed his nose to where the smell of sulfur became stronger. The distinct smell of mountain ash cut through the sulfuric smell, becoming more pronounced as he followed the scent. Undoubtedly, Cora was being held in a mountain ash ring. 

He pushed his feelings down, trying not to let anything resurface. There was a bit of heartache as he moved forward, his entire body, his wolf, longing to be reconnected with his sister. He couldn’t let himself lose focus, not when they were so close to gaining more information. Tomorrow, with the help of Stiles, they would be able to take action more firmly. 

They passed through a pair of parallel trees, and it was as if the entire forest landscape had transformed. The trees acted like a gateway, and passing through them changed the scenery. What used to look like more trees was now a small log cabin, the faintest bit of candlelight coming from inside. 

Derek concentrated hard, hearing two distinct heartbeats inside. One was his sister, the other presumably the witch. 

“Holy shit,” Scott whispered. 

He didn’t dare to move any closer for fear of triggering the witch, or some sort of defensive spell. He could see the faintest line of mountain ash at the base of the cabin, and the smell of a lot of different herbs was almost cloying. They needed Stiles to decipher any of this. 

“Let’s head back,” Derek said. Every step away from the cabin pained him. He wanted to go inside and retrieve his sister, wanted to make sure that everything was alright. Now, with only Scott by his side, there was no way to safely pull her out of there. Things had to wait until morning. 

They were silent as they trekked back out of the woods and drove home. There was nothing more to say. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was afraid for himself, and he was afraid for Derek. And Scott, of course, but Scott had his own girl to worry about him. Stiles let himself worry about Derek because it was his sister they were rescuing, and it was his boyfriend that was leaping into danger. He wanted to keep him for as long as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I'm very good at writing battle scenes, so here's my best go at it *shrug*
> 
> I start my final term of uni tomorrow, so the final conclusion chapter will probably take a hot minute to finish, but I'll try to get it up as soon as possible. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading and leaving comments! Y'all inspire me :)

The morning brought a looming feeling on the entire Stilinksi household. There was a tenseness in the air and the knowledge that things were ending today, if all went to plan. They were going to get Cora back. 

At some point during the night, Derek had crawled into bed with a passed out Stiles, and Stiles was glad to wake up with him. He liked the strong feeling of Derek’s arm wrapped tight around his waist, and he couldn’t help but lean further into Derek, loving his boyfriend. 

He loved thinking that. His boyfriend. His Derek. Love. They all fit together so perfectly, like puzzle pieces that Stiles hadn’t quite put together. It made him feel so much more at peace than before. 

Derek woke up soon after Stiles, his arms instinctually tightening around Stiles protectively as he woke up. The fact that he instinctively held tighter made Stiles’ heart beat a little more confidently. They were so sure with each other, and the way that they had grown, even over a short time, was great. He liked

He made sure to shake Derek a little as he got up, wanting to slowly alert him to the day. It was going to be a whirlwind of a day, but they had to get it started. They had to get Cora back. 

Stiles sent out a mass text to the entire pack to meet at his house by 10am for a strategy session. Until then, Stiles was going to make breakfast and work on some last minute protective charms for Isaac and his dad, just in case something were to happen to either of them. He didn’t need another casualty or almost fatal injury. 

He put the kettle on for some tea, getting out a mix of herbs that would be clarifying rather than tasty. The tea would taste awful, but if both he and Derek had a cup, it would help with the entire day. It would keep their heads clear and their brains working fast, making it easiest for them to work towards their end goal. 

When Derek came down, they were silent together, both lost in their own thoughts. 

Stiles was consumed with the game plan and how he fit into it. It was his job to essentially become a conduit for their own power that they were going to hold over the witch, but it was hard to think of himself as useful like that. He was not necessarily the best in battle, if his few scars and bad track record were any evidence. He could still feel the slightly raised edge of the scar from the rogue omega two years ago who broke past Scott and got to him before anyone came to the rescue. He knew there was a nick in his eyebrow from a Hunter’s knife sliding across his face when they were battling non-friendly distant Argent relatives. 

He was afraid for himself, and he was afraid for Derek. And Scott, of course, but Scott had his own girl to worry about him. Stiles let himself worry about Derek because it was his sister they were rescuing, and it was his boyfriend that was leaping into danger. He wanted to keep him for as long as possible. 

(They had just said ‘I love you’ for the first time to each other not that long ago. Losing him now would be horrifically unbearable.)

“When is everyone coming?” Derek asked, his voice gruff and low. 

“Ten. Figured that would give us time to strategize first, streamline the process,” Stiles said, feeling a little unsure of himself now. He wanted to be doing the right thing, making all of the right moves, ensuring that Cora would return home safely, but that was not necessarily in his control. He did not have exact control over everything in his life. 

“Scott needs to approach the front formally, as the Alpha of this region. Allison should perch in a tree close by, ready for long distance coverage,” Derek said, moving the salt and pepper shakers on the table to mark out the placements of everyone. He added balled up napkins and his own tea cup to the mix, making a more distinctive layout. 

“Isaac and I will go around back, hopefully rescuing while she is distracted. Or having backup if she returns Cora seamlessly,” Derek said, pointing to the items that represented himself and Isaac. 

“So where will I be?” Stiles asked, looking up at Derek. 

“Not there,” Derek said firmly. 

This was not what was planned. “I have to be there in case any of you get injured. I am literally the battery powered backup plan to ensure that y’all have enough juice to take her down,” Stiles said, pointing towards a spot on the table that would put himself perpendicular to both groups. “If I stay on the side, I should be relatively protected and unseen by the witch. I can do my own thing from there.”

“I don’t want you there at all,” Derek growled lowly. 

“I am going to help rescue your sister, and that is final. I have my own weaponry, you know,” Stiles said, pushing away from the table. 

Derek looked between Stiles and the table a few times, as if thinking about this plan. “Fine,” he conceded, lips tight. “If there is any danger, I want you out of there. You can’t get hurt.”

There was pain and hurt underlying Derek’s words. Even as he was trying to be tough enough for the both of them, Stiles could still tell. He just knew Derek. To reassure him, he reached across the table, smoothing a hand over Derek’s head. “I’ll be careful, babe. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m going to mark this up formally,” Derek muttered. He reached up and caught Stiles’ hand for a moment before standing and walking away from the table. 

“I’m going to go make some molotov cocktails for backup,” Stiles said, knowing Derek could hear him. 

He tried not to take it too personally, the way that Derek was acting. It was a stress reaction, not a direct attack on Stiles personally. He would just have to acknowledge that as a fact, rather than let it get to him. They had a lot of growth in their relationship in the past weeks, he wasn’t going to throw that away because Derek was being titchy. 

***

After describing the general plan to the others, they set off for the woods. The battle felt looming over their heads, and instead of the quick action and hastily made plan b’s that they had in high school, this felt like a well thought out surgical strike. This was going to work, and Stiles knew that. He had personally made sure that everyone had enhanced magic to protect them. He hoped it was enough. 

The tea that he had made him and Derek this morning made the trek to the witch’s house quick and efficient. It was like seeing through her guards clearly for the first time. 

The house was a quaint, cabin-like building with one distinct floor and some sort of thatched, organic roof. It looked like it belonged to a witch, with the opening into the small clearing almost a doorway into another world. It was the kind of thing that Stiles envied because, as a spark, he was nowhere near as powerful as Ophelia. He was not going to be a witch, and yet this aesthetic witch look was everything that he wanted. 

“Be careful of wolfsbane or mountain ash in the back,” Stiles whispered to Derek, tugging at his sleeve. “If she’s as organic as she appears, then she grows all of her own supplies. Don’t accidentally stumble into it,” Stiles added, tucking himself closer to Derek. 

“Got it,” Derek said, eyes staring straight ahead at the small house. 

“Good luck,” Stiles whispered, giving Derek a side hug before he and Isaac started moving away, their feet silent as they slipped back into the underbrush. 

When Stiles turned, he caught Allison and Scott giving him a weird look, but he pointedly ignored them in favor of swinging his own backpack around, pulling out a small baggie of mountain ash. He handed it to Allison, making a face. “If something happens, this can work against her if you believe hard enough. Otherwise, I’ll see you when everything is over,” Stiles said, shrugging. 

They all parted ways; Stiles to the side of the house, Allison up a tree, and Scott steadily towards the house. 

The tension grew thicker as Scott approached, his head twitching at every noise, eyes flaring red in preparation of taking on the witch. He walked slowly, but with a purpose. As he came closer and closer to the front door, it felt as if only moments were going to pass before the witch struck out at him. Hopefully his hoodie, with the runes painted onto it, was going to be enough to last any sort of attack. 

When he came within 50ft of the house, the front door opened. Scott paused, standing tall in wait of whoever was exiting the front door. 

Ophelia, when she stepped out of the door, looked almost entirely different than the photos that Stiles had seen of her. She was thin, almost frail looking. Instead of the healthy looking twenty-something, she was old, wrinkles around her eyes and a gaunt look to her face. It was as if she was wasting away, which could be entirely true due to the massive amounts of magic that it took to keep this place, and herself, hidden. 

“We want Cora Hale back,” Scott said firmly, not bothering to announce himself in any way. This witch knew them, she knew all of them. There was not time for politeness when dealing with a kidnapping witch. 

“You can’t have her,” Ophelia said, her voice scratchy. “She’s mine.”

“She’s not anyone’s to have,” Scott said quickly, his eyes narrowing. 

“I’m surprised you’re alive,” Ophelia said, looking Scott up and down. “You shouldn’t be.”

Without Stiles’ spark, he would be. Having advantage over the witch, and surprising her this way, was likely good for their plan. It meant that she was not anticipating an attack with numbers. 

“Give her back. Don’t make me ask again,” Scott said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Quick as a flick of her fingers, a bolt of energy sprung from the witch and struck Scott, knocking him flat on his back. This must have been the attack that both Scott and Derek had received before; the bolt of energy tore through the air quickly and was clearly designed to maim and even kill. 

Stiles waited with baited breath as Scott lay there, almost motionless. He wanted to see a sign, anything, that the runes had worked and that Scott was not killed by that attack alone. He needed to see his best friend stand, show that he was unfazed. 

Slowly, he stirred. Ophelia watched him carefully, her eyes narrowing as he stood fully. Upon standing, it was revealed that he did not have a mark on him except for a blackened, burned spot on his hoodie. He was perfectly alive. 

“So you have a witch on your side,” Ophelia said, her lips twisting. 

“A spark. And he did a damn fine job,” Scott said, smirking a little bit. 

Something must have changed, or shifted, because the witch was turning back to her house, eyes wide with alarm. “You came with more,” she said, sounding entirely surprised. 

“We came for Cora,” Scott said again, shifting, his eyes burning red. “And we are getting her back,” Scott added, running towards the witch. 

As he ran towards her, she flicked her wrist, sending smaller bolts of energy towards him as he moved. They were enough to slow him down, but she clearly could not make one with as much impact as the first when he was moving towards her so quickly. It was as if she couldn’t charge up enough to cause any impact. Wherever the bolts hit on his body left singe marks in the hoodie, slowly burning it away as he crossed the distance. 

She backed herself up, backing into the wall of the cabin. It seemed as if it was going to be over quickly. 

Derek and Isaac came running around the other side of the house, Derek’s jacket bundled around a drowsy looking Cora. She seemed dazed, almost confused as she blindly followed Isaac away, towards where Allison was stationed in the trees. 

The witch’s focus shifted quickly, eyes flickering to Derek. He was completely defenseless without his jacket, which should have protected him. It was designed to protect him. 

Stiles was standing and screaming before the witch even made a move. “Derek! No!” Stiles screamed, running towards him. 

The action moved quickly, making Stiles feel as if he was running in slow motion. 

The witch flicked a bolt of energy at Derek, knocking him down quickly. Almost instantaneously, an arrow soared across the space, burying itself in the witch’s chest. The witch grabbed the arrow, her eyes looking down at it in surprise. She withered away quickly, becoming older and older until she looked too old to be alive. When she collapsed to her knees, her entire body turned to dust, leaving empty clothing behind. 

Stiles ignored all of this, instead cutting across the clearing to where Derek was motionless, laying at an odd angle. He dropped to his knees at Derek’s side, hands reaching up to touch his face, figure out what was wrong. Cora dropped to her knees on his other side, grabbing his hand and clutching tight. 

“His heart, Stiles,” she said, blinking away her dazed expression. With every moment that the witch was gone, she seemed to come alive a little more. “His heart isn’t beating,” she added, almost frantic. 

Stiles leaned down and placed his ear over Derek’s chest, his own heart beating wildly at the absence of sound or movement. “No, babe,” he said desperately, his hands cupping Derek’s cheeks. 

Without thinking, he grabbed the knife he tucked into his pocket, slicing his hand open quickly. He ripped the front of Derek’s shirt open, making a similar cut down the front of Derek’s chest. He knew something was wrong when it didn’t immediately heal itself, which meant that what he was about to do was even more important. 

“Isaac, make sure that my hand does not leave his chest, okay? Even if I pass out,” Stiles said, gesturing for Isaac to come over. 

Isaac nodded grimly, dropping down beside Cora. 

Stiles pressed his cut palm to Derek’s open cut on his chest, letting his blood seep into Derek’s wound. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the pull of his spark around his heart. He pulled up as much magic as he could, more than he did for either Scott or Derek in the past. He let it flow towards his hand, letting it flow out of him with his blood. He concentrated on pushing the magic into Derek, feeling their connection move deeper as he could feel his magic flood Derek’s system. He concentrated, focusing his magic on Derek’s heart, on starting it again. 

He could feel himself getting weak, his consciousness slipping. He ignored that feeling for as long as possible, waiting for the moment Derek’s heart started again. He hoped, he  _ prayed _ , as he pushed his energy into Derek. There was quiet all around him, and then, at last, a heart beat. 

Feeling Derek’s heart beat under his hand brought a huge sense of relief, and he let himself slip away, falling unconscious at Derek’s side. 

***

Stiles had a bad habit of falling unconscious to aid his friends. 

Which was why he was not surprised at all when he awoke at the vet, laying on an uncomfortable cot shoved into the corner. It was likely that he was not physically injured, which was why he was laying here instead of the big metal table, but he was at the vet nonetheless. It meant that he definitely passed out in an attempt to save Derek. 

He shot up quickly, ignoring the pounding in his head at the movement. He had to find Derek, and he had to make sure that his heart was beating normally. He was not going to lose the person he loved because he was stupid enough to take off his protective jacket. 

Derek was, thankfully, lying on the metal table in the middle of the room, looking far too still to be good. He was posed like a corpse, lying flat on his back with his hands tucked carefully onto his torso. 

“Derek?” Stiles asked timidly, standing on unsteady feet. He crossed to the table, grabbing onto it for support. Up close, he could see the steady rise and fall of Derek’s chest, which meant that his heart was beating again. 

“Babe,” Stiles said, reaching across Derek and giving him a hug, putting his ear directly over Derek’s heart. Even though he could see breathing, he had to hear the steady beats of Derek’s heart for himself. He needed the reassurance that it worked, and that Derek was healthy and healed. 

Derek’s hands came up to weakly hold Stiles, his arms barely grabbing on. “Stiles,” he muttered, voice quiet. 

“I am so fucking happy you’re alive,” Stiles said, almost weeping onto his chest. He pulled away just enough to see Derek’s face, to see his eyes open and alive. 

“What happened?” Derek asked, voice sounding gravely and clumsy. 

Tears sprang to Stiles’ eyes at the thought of what had happened. He pictured the bolt of energy hitting Derek, knocking him to the ground. “Babe, love, you  _ died _ ,” Stiles said, reaching up to cup Derek’s cheek with one hand. Tears dripped from his cheeks onto Derek’s, which he wiped away quickly. 

“I died?” Derek asked, shaking his head a little. 

“I watched you die,” Stiles said, trying to hold back a sob. “I watched you die, and then I had to bring you back to life. I couldn’t lose you,” Stiles said, leaning down to rest his forehead against Derek’s. He needed to be close to him, to know that he was still alive under his hands. 

“I’m here,” Derek said, his voice tired. He passively held Stiles to him, clearly not in a state for an intense reunion. “I love you.”

“I love you too, you absolute idiot,” Stiles said, laughing at his ridiculous boyfriend. He leaned forward and kissed him quickly, petting at his hair. 

“Rest too,” Derek said, his eyes sliding shut. 

“Not without you,” Stiles said, even though that was entirely corny. He ignored the shaking in his legs, focusing on Derek. “I can’t go— I can’t—” Stiles stammered, not really getting his point across. 

He had watched countless friends get injured in front of him, but nothing was like with his mother. 

He had been sitting diligently at her side, like he did always, even when she didn’t recognize him anymore. He would do his homework and turn it to her favorite tv channels at the right times, making sure that she was as happy as she could be. He had gotten up to go to the bathroom, and when he came back, her heart was beating a lot slower than before. Her breath was shallow. 

He had watched his own mother pass when he was a kid. He was not going to turn his back again, for fear that something similar would happen. 

Derek didn’t know this story, at least not the full extent of it. He wouldn’t understand the underlying need for Stiles to not let go, to hold on for as long as possible. He didn’t get that for Stiles, he needed to watch Derek, to make sure that his breath didn’t slow and that he didn’t slip away before Stiles could say goodbye. 

“Love,” Derek said, clumsily petting at Stiles’ back. “Lay with me.” 

Stiles climbed onto the small vet table as best he could, his legs shaking as he did. He laid himself along Derek’s side, pillowing his head on Derek’s chest. He put his ear over Derek’s heart, the steady beats of it lulling Stiles to sleep. Laying here, listening to Derek breathe, he was able to slowly let the anxiety slip away. He let himself relax, glad that Derek was alive. 

“Babe,” Stiles murmured, nuzzling into Derek’s chest. “I couldn’t live without you.”

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek said. Despite his words, his arms moved tighter around Stiles’ shoulders. “Me too.”

Stiles couldn’t help but smile, content.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why can’t you buy ground up beans?” Derek asked, giving Stiles a pointed look. 
> 
> This was a conversation they had gone over multiple times in the past. 
> 
> “Why can’t you appreciate the art of grinding one’s own beans?” Stiles asked, giving him a look right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finished! 
> 
> Thank y'all so much for the comments and kudos so far. I really appreciate all of it!! I am not exaggerating when I say that y'all motivate me to work so much harder and produce good works. 
> 
> This took me a hot minute to finish because I started my last term of college last week, but I pounded through it this morning and I am satisfied. Honestly, I could write this version of Derek and Stiles forever because they're so fun to write, and so flirty all the time. Maybe I'll write an epilogue later just because. 
> 
> Enjoy!

When they awoke again, the lights were bright in the vet. There were no clocks in room, so Stiles couldn’t even attempt to gauge what time it was, or how long they had been laying there. It couldn’t have been long, because Deaton did not like cancelling his appointments for the day to let them heal in his only workspace. He really didn’t appreciate it when they crashed his offices. 

“Don’t move,” Derek mumbled underneath him, his arms tightening around Stiles’ middle. He nuzzled into the top of Stiles’ head, his eyes closed, trying to enjoy the last grips of sleepiness before waking fully. 

“Have to,” Stiles mumbled back, giving Derek a quick squeeze before moving, pushing himself into a half kneeling position, glancing around. 

He was sort of glad that they were alone again, instead of under the gaze of the rest of the pack. Not that he would be ashamed of cuddling Derek on the big metal table in the middle of the room, but he wasn’t ready for the talks that were going to happen. Those same talks were already likely happening behind his back, discussing when and where he and Derek got together. 

“Fine,” Derek huffed, sitting up as well. He stretched up and forward, swinging his legs off of the table with more energy than Stiles had in his entire body. 

“How are you so awake,” Stiles said, shaking his head. He still felt an all over body ache, and his brain was foggy. He was not really ready to get up and face the noise, but he had to. He at least had to make sure that they were both alive and healthy. 

Derek jumped off of the table, turning around to offer Stiles a hand in climbing down. “Thanks, babe,” Stiles said, slowly climbing down. 

Even though they had no need to be close to each other, Stiles still gravitated into Derek’s space, tucking himself up against Derek’s side. He sleepily rested his head on Derek’s shoulder, still waking up to the world again. He wanted to sleep more, but there was no way anyone else was going to let him get away with that. 

Derek’s arms slipped around his waist, humming quietly. “They know we’re awake,” he said, leaning back against a cabinet. 

Only seconds later, the doors opened, letting in the entire cavalry. 

Scott came barreling in first, eyes wide. He nearly tripped when he saw the two of them wrapped up in each other, but with a guiding hand from Allison, he moved to the side to let everyone else in. Isaac, Cora, Deaton, and the Sheriff followed, the latter beelining for Stiles. 

“Dad,” Stiles said, letting go of Derek to fall into his dad, holding onto him tight. “Sorry.”

“Apologizing already?” the Sheriff asked, scrubbing his hand over Stiles’ head. “Kid, you really know how to be dramatic.”

“Cora,” Derek said, the two of them falling together, hugging each other tightly. 

“All in the name of love,” Stiles said, pulling back from his dad. 

When he turned, everyone’s eyes were on him, some wider than others. This was the noise he was not prepared to face. He was not ready for the judgemental looks and the stern warnings and the whispered ‘what the hell are you doing?’ under everyone’s breaths. 

Their relationships with Derek had been contentious over the years, sure, but Stiles had never had the anger and resentment that Scott had, or the deep prolonged sense of loss that Isaac had. No one could say anything, because despite their movement forward to include him in the pack, no one had bothered repairing what was broken. They all accepted him, but that resentment and fear and loss was still present underneath everything else. 

“Can you at least tell me if I’m dying?” Stiles asked, looking around the room. 

“You saved his life, Stiles. You saved my brother,” Cora said, throwing her arms around him. 

“It seems that you wore your spark out, nearly drained yourself, but I can already tell that it’s healing back. It took nearly two days of sleeping. You both should be fine,” Deaton said formally, his hands clasped in front of him. 

“That was a straight up miracle,” Isaac said, looking between Stiles and Derek. 

“Why didn’t you mention you two were dating?” Scott asked, sounding sort of angry. He crossed his arms over his chest, frowning at the two of them. 

This was the conversation Stiles was not really ready to have. 

“I think I’m going to excuse myself,” Deaton said, slipping from the room. 

“Same here, kid. I’ll see you two for dinner?” the Sheriff said, clapping them both on the back. He left without hearing a response, following Deaton out the door and leaving the pack alone. 

“You never asked,” Stiles said, shrinking back towards Cora and Derek. 

Cora didn’t seem surprised at all, which meant that Derek had told her, or she had figured it out over the past 9 months. Probably the latter, considering smell and other werewolf senses, but all the same. 

“Ask? Why should I have to ask my best friend who he’s dating?” Scott asked, sounding hurt. 

Stiles reached back and took Derek’s hand, sliding their fingers together and squeezing gently. “You hated Derek for a long time, and even though you’re fine with him now, there’s still a part of you that hates him. I never told you because I knew you’d react this way, and I didn’t want to deal with it,” Stiles said, shaking his head slightly. 

“React what way?” Scott asked, almost snarling. 

“Angry! Frustrated! Hatred! Scotty, you are literally about to shift at the thought of me and Derek together. Just admit you’re territorial and you’re still holding a grudge,” Stiles said, stepping back into Derek, letting himself be protected. 

Allison reached over and touched Scott’s back, trying to bring him back in. She was acting like the anchor she was supposed to be, grounding him in the sense of reality. Despite her own qualms with Derek, she wasn’t about to burst out in anger because he and Stiles were dating. There was no reason for any sort of angry reaction, or even a discussion. 

“I don’t get it,” Scott said under his breath, squeezing his hands tight at his sides, his fists clenching and unclenching. 

“You don’t have to get it,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “Just trust that I know what’s right for me.”

Stiles’ words seemed to hang heavy in the room for a few moments before everyone started to move again, Isaac giving a nod as he shifted out the door. Cora tugged at Derek’s arm, as if to ask for privacy, and Scott and Allison were having some sort of hushed conversation. 

“I guess I should go home to my dad,” Stiles said to Derek, squeezing his hand. He moved to pull away, but Derek clung onto his fingers, holding him tight. 

“We’ll all go back there together. Can Cora stay in the guest room?” Derek asked, looking between Cora and Stiles. 

This question was somehow more surprising than anything Derek had done in the past. Maybe Stiles was still used to Derek disappearing every few days, or maybe involving Cora felt like crossing a line that they hadn’t crossed yet, but Stiles wasn’t sure how to react. They had said ‘I love you’, were living together, and were a confirmed couple to their entire friend group, yet this was weird to Stiles. 

“Of course. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be alone,” Stiles said, looking between them. 

“And not thank you for saving me?” Cora teased, punching Stiles’ arm. 

“I’ll buy dinner on the way home?” Derek offered, raising his eyebrows.

Stiles smiled, ducking his head. “Babe, you’re the best.”

“ _ Babe, you’re the best _ ,” Cora mocked, making a face. 

“Let’s go,” Derek said, ignoring the both of them. 

***

After they had stopped for burgers from the diner, they finally made it back to the Sheriff’s house, the lights from inside a welcome sight. It always felt like home, walking into the front door. It was a calming feeling. 

“We’re home!” Stiles called out when they crossed the threshold, Cora shutting the door behind the three of them. 

“I was about to call you about dinner,” the Sheriff said, rounding the corner out of the kitchen. When he spotted the takeout bag, he nodded, a small smile cracking at the corner of his mouth. “Is that a burger?”

“One time only deal, dad. Red meat is only for near death scenarios,” Stiles said, shaking the bag. 

They all sat around the table, Stiles bringing over cans of soda for all four of them. He wasn’t sure about everyone else, but he needed sugar and the small amount of caffeine to begin to refuel his body. He could feel a dull ache in his chest where his magic should be, and feeling an absence was strange. 

“How’re you feeling, Cora?” the Sheriff asked between bites, attempting to be more polite than Stiles and Derek, who were wolfing down their food. 

Stiles tangled his feet with Derek’s under the table, winking at him in a totally unsubtle way. He was joyful at the fact that they were alive and having dinner together with his dad. This was a scene he never imagined going well, and yet it felt so normal. 

“It’s hard. But I’m still processing, you know? I didn’t even really know that a month had passed, and being under her spell was hard,” Cora said, shrugging. She looked down at her food, her lips twisting up at the thought. 

“Sorry for bringing up a sore subject,” the Sheriff said quietly, sipping from his can. 

“Under her spell?” Derek asked, looking at his sister intently. 

“I loved her at one point, you know? She twisted that against me, made me feel that again, to a point where I didn’t question her. It’s not going to be easy, but I guess it hasn’t really hit me yet,” Cora said, shrugging again. She clearly had no response to this at all, or even how to respond at all. There was no way of imagining what she went through. 

“You can always come stay with us at Stanford,” Stiles said around a bite of food. “It’s a tiny spare room that’s my office right now, but we can make it yours,” Stiles added, smiling sincerely at her. 

Cora scrunched her face up, as if trying to hold back tears of some sort. “You mean it?”

Derek leaned over and nudged his shoulder against hers. “Mean it.”

“As long as you don’t mind watching old seasons of Love Island and the coffee grinder at 7am,” Stiles said, giving her a cheesy grin. 

“Why can’t you buy ground up beans?” Derek asked, giving Stiles a pointed look. 

This was a conversation they had gone over multiple times in the past. 

“Why can’t you appreciate the art of grinding one’s own beans?” Stiles asked, giving him a look right back. 

“Coffee tastes bad no matter what,” Derek muttered, shaking his head. 

“Says the guy who sometimes has a cigarette on our evening walks,” Stiles said, kicking at his feet under the table. 

Both Cora and the Sheriff looked to Derek, their eyes almost boring holes into him. He didn’t crack under the pressure of either of their gazes, instead doubling down on Stiles. 

“At least I don’t stress eat entire cheesecakes while watching Love Island,” Derek said, kicking back at him. 

The Sheriff cleared his throat, catching both of their attention. “Boys. Now is not the time to bicker.”

“Y’all actually kind of made me sick,” Cora said, tossing the last bites of her burger down. “I’m regretting saying I would live with you two,”. 

“No take backsies!” Stiles said, pointing at Cora. “Once you agree, you can’t go back. I’ve already decided what sort of bed and dresser combo I want to put into that room.”

Derek rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He reached across the table to brush something from Stiles’ face, fingers light. It was moments like these, the little gestures, the ways that Derek touched him even when it wasn’t necessary, that was why Stiles liked him. Why he loved him. He knew he probably had a dopey look on his face, but he still cared about Derek more than anything. It was not his fault that everyone else was just jealous. 

“Sickening,” Cora said, making a face at them. “I’m going to die living there,” Cora said, directing this statement at the Sheriff. 

“If you get too sick of them, you can always come and have Stiles’ room,” the Sheriff said, nodding at Cora. 

“Hey!” Stiles cried out in protest, making a face at his dad. “You can’t just be giving my room away like it’s not mine anymore, you dingus.”

His dad stared at him blankly. “Did you just call me a dingus.”

“I plead the fifth,” Stiles said, shaking his head. 

“And all of this somehow makes me want to live with you two?” Cora asked skeptically, her face clearly showing it. “No offense, but John’s offer is so much better. At least I know he’d be quiet and respectful.”

Stiles let out a small squeak. “Did you just call my dad by his first name?” Stiles asked, his eyebrows raised in shock. 

“What am I supposed to call him?” Cora asked, making a face at Stiles. “I’m not scared of him like Derek is.”

Derek glared at his sister for revealing something like that. He wasn’t actually scared of him, he was just terrified of what would happen if he thought someone was hurting his son. Not that Derek ever wanted to hurt Stiles, but he was prepared for the inevitability that he hurt everyone in his life at least once. 

“You don’t have to be scared of me,” the Sheriff said, pressing his lips together as if to hold back a laugh. 

“No one is scared of anyone, and Cora is living with us. It’s already a done deal,” Stiles said, slamming his hand down on the table as if it were a gavel. 

This seemed to quiet the table as they finished their meals, with the Sheriff collecting garbage and heading into the kitchen as soon as they were done. It was sort of peaceful, to all be sitting in silence and enjoying each other’s company without having to say anything to break the silence. It was the sort of thing Stiles already sort of felt with Derek, but it was nice to know that Cora was just as easy to get along with. 

“Driving back tomorrow?” Cora asked quietly, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah. Probably after lunch,” Stiles said, glancing at Derek for confirmation. 

“We have to stop by the house before we leave,” Derek said, nodding in agreement. 

The old Hale house, instead of a shell in the middle of the woods, was demolished to a flat surface. The basement walls still remained, but everything was filled in with dirt and materials from the house. It was a clean slate, with a stone slab in the middle of it. On that slab was a plaque that had everyone’s names and birthdays inscribed on it. Stiles had been out there without Derek only once, and he had been astounded at the fact that seven people had died in the fire, with no one knowing what happened until over 5 years later. 

It was a special place, and it was something that they both needed after this long endeavor. 

“I can stay home for that,” Stiles said, looking down at his hands.

“Come with,” Derek said, reaching out and covering Stiles’ hands with his own. “I want you there.”

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked, suddenly feeling small and out of place. 

In his relationship with Derek, he felt secure about most things. He knew that Derek was always coming back to him, he knew that they were solid, he knew that they loved each other. Despite all this, he still felt unsure about whether or not Derek wanted to involve him in his past, and include him in aspects of his life before they had met. It wasn’t like they had met in good circumstances, and he didn’t want to disrespect his family any further. 

Derek frowned at him, squeezing Stiles’ hands. “Yeah, I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I want you there?”

This simple reassurance, while helpful, didn’t really feel like enough to Stiles’ panicking heart. He simply nodded, looking down at where Derek’s hands covered his own. He flipped Derek’s hands over, sliding his fingers along his palms. He wanted to enjoy the feeling of Derek’s hands, ground himself in the reality of them functioning as an  _ us _ . 

“I love you,” Derek whispered, barely audible to Stiles. 

“I love you too,” Stiles whispered back, glancing up at Derek. 

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Cora said, standing from the table. “If you two lovebirds need me, I’ll be in the guest room. With earplugs in. Hoping that I can’t hear anything that’s happening in your room.” She exited from the room quickly, rolling her eyes as she went. 

Stiles sat back in his chair, holding onto Derek’s hands. “That sort of ruins the mood,” Stiles said, kicking at Derek’s feet under the table. 

“Doesn’t matter. I still love you,” Derek said, smiling brightly. 

“You just love saying that, don’t you?” Stiles teased, his own smile slipping onto his lips. 

“It’s nice to say it. And to feel it. It feels real this time, like we’re gonna last,” Derek said, pulling at Stiles’ hands, trying to drag him closer. 

“I sure hope we’re gonna last. I have plans for us, babe. I’m talking minimum 10-year plans for our future together,” Stiles said, letting himself be pulled forward. He sat up in his seat, leaning across the table to kiss Derek firmly. 

***

Stiles never thought that walking into his apartment would hold so much relief for him. It felt as if a weight was being lifted off of his shoulders, and he could finally relax into the comforts of the place he had been calling home for the past two years. 

“We don’t have a bed set up, but we can go out and get one today,” Derek said to Cora, gesturing for her to follow him down the hallway. 

Instead of heading after them, Stiles stood in the middle of the place, closing his eyes and breathing in the familiar smells and feelings that this brought him. It was his,  _ theirs _ , and it was a feeling that he didn’t want to let go. When he finished school, he wanted to continue this feeling. He wanted to buy a house with Derek, find somewhere in a quiet neighborhood, tucked between two normal houses, maybe near a state park. Something that would bring them a sense of peace and home. 

(This future involved rings on fingers and a domesticity that Stiles was not ready to admit he wanted yet. The thought of proposing to Derek was terrifying, and yet he wanted it so badly.)

Derek’s hands slid around him from behind, his chin resting on Stiles’ shoulder. “Thinking?” 

“Only about our future,” Stiles said, leaning back into his warmth. “About how we’re going to buy a house together, and have a permanency with each other.”

“Yeah?” Derek hummed, pressing a kiss to the side of Stiles’ neck. 

“Don’t you think so? Maybe a house in a quiet neighborhood. A room dedicated to our increasing book collection. You could start looking for jobs again, work as a teacher in the local high school?”

“And live my life with teenagers swarming me? No thanks,” Derek said, pinching at Stiles. 

“Hey! I’m not a teenager anymore. Don’t tell me you didn’t like it, Mr. I-am-the-Alpha-now,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes even though Derek couldn’t see it. 

“I’ll just go back to school again. Get my pHd this time,” Derek said, squeezing Stiles tight. “I’ve already got the only teenager I liked leering at me, so why go back for more?”

“Aw, babe, so sweet,” Stiles said, pinching at Derek’s arms. 

“What do you want for lunch?” Derek asked, slipping away from Stiles. 

Stiles made a face. “What do we even have in the fridge?” he asked, trailing behind Derek as they ducked into the kitchen. 

He had forgotten about the mess they had made with the tracking pendant. The maps were still on the counter, and the wet goo was now hardened into the cauldron. That was going to be a pain to soak out. 

“How about I go and get takeout while you clean this,” Derek said, backing away from the mess. 

“Anything but Thai?” Stiles said, making a face at the mess. “But also not pizza,” Stiles added, pushing the cauldron towards the sink. 

“Thai pizza, got it,” Derek said, grabbing his keys. 

“You better be joking!” Stiles called after him. He could hear Derek laughing as he shut the front door. 

Stiles made quick work of the maps that were laying out, folding them back into their shapes and tucking them aside. It was the cauldron that needed the most assistance, so Stiles had started by pouring some oil into it in the hopes that it would help unstick the dried goo. 

“Do you two always act like that?” Cora asked from the doorway. 

“Ah!” Stiles exclaimed, grabbing something as if to throw it at her. “You can’t sneak up on me. I’m sensitive.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “Do you two always act like that? Does he always laugh like that?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, frowning at this line of questioning. “That’s kind of what we’re like together, usually.”

“Good. I like to see him laugh and feel good about himself. I don’t think he’s had a chance to feel normal for a long time. I like that you’re giving it to him,” Cora said, crossing her arms. 

“I’m just doing my best for him,” Stiles said, shrugging. 

That was the truth. He was really just doing his best for Derek, and hoping that he was enough. He wanted to be enough, to be what Derek needed, and he knew that it wasn’t an easy feat to be everything for someone. Yet, he liked that they were everything for each other right now. He liked the bubble that they had created for themselves. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Cora said, reaching over and lightly punching Stiles’ shoulder in a presumably friendly way. 

“So! Any plans for what is next for you?” Stiles asked, getting out a sponge to scrub his caudron. He avoided eye contact in the hopes that it would help Cora open up more, maybe feel more comfortable. 

“There’s a therapist in my old pack in Mexico, so I think I’m going to get into contact with her. Try and talk through some of this. After that, I think I wanna go backpacking around the world. See everything before I don’t have the opportunity to,” Cora said, shrugging. “Unlike you two, I’m not an academic.”

“And you don’t have to be,” Stiles assured her. “I think that a little bit of world travels will be great. As long as we get trinkets and postcards,” Stiles continued, smiling to himself. 

“So supportive,” Cora said, reaching over to flick Stiles’ arm. “That’s a good thing though, don’t let my teasing say otherwise.”

“I figure someone has to be optimistic in this family,” Stiles said, scrubbing hard at the pan. When Cora didn’t respond right away, he looked up at her, frowning in confusion. “What?” he asked, unsure of what had just happened. 

“You said family,” Cora said plainly.

He did. It slipped out. He really did mean it when he said it, but it was hard for him to say something like this in front of Cora. These were thoughts he would keep to himself, and maybe tell Derek late at night when he was convinced Derek was asleep. This was not something he was ready to admit in the daylight. 

“I meant it,” Stiles said, as if that was any sort of explanation. 

Cora leaned over and punched him on the shoulder gently, smiling as she did so. “Whatever, dork. I’m going to go shower before Derek gets back.”

After she walked away, it was back to silence. It reminded Stiles of the silence he was so familiar with, one that was made due to absence rather than contentment. But, now that he had Cora, and he had Derek, the silence of the past was gone. Rather than being completely alone, Stiles had his new family permanently in his life. 

He was still scrubbing away when Derek returned with burritos, dropping the bag on the counter. “Hey,” Derek muttered, sliding up behind Stiles, peeking over his shoulder. 

“Babe, I’m almost done,” Stiles said, leaning into Derek. 

“Good,” Derek murmured, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ neck. His hand slid up Stiles’ shirt, pressing against bare skin. “You smell good. Happy.”

“Then my scent is reflecting how I feel,” Stiles said, dropping the sponge into the sink. He twisted in Derek’s arms, kissing him quickly. “I feel like I’m in love.”

“I love you too,” Derek said, pressing their foreheads together. 


End file.
